I wonder why I rarely feel alone.
My mind seems able to regale itself
Beyond connecting on the telephone
Or Internet; I rarely raid a shelf
For books to keep me occupied. TV
Can buffer, but for sustenance my Self
Depends upon its own resources to be
Happy in its now. Others tell me they
Require love and contact: liberty
To speak with others on demand. My way
May seem like isolation next to this –
But so far living solo lets me play
The games I need to play. What do I miss?
Perhaps one day I’ll know. But now it’s bliss.