I was in a zone, I was creating, it was a weekend day and it was a day for me. Then talking commenced. Socializing, talking, events that were not me creating were there for me to dedicate focus too. I can only focus on one thing, and I can’t come off as an asshole, and thus I am focusing on the talking.

I need to be doing things. Things that are not talking. Things that are… things for me, because I need to create things to feel better about the day. The 24-hour day. The 1440-minute day. With sleep having to be included in at least a small portion of that. Regardless of all of it, this is all finite—time. Time is… this time is supposed to be mine. I am supposed to be doing other things, for me. I am supposed to be selfish, at least for one day.

Talking. But, talking. About what? It doesn’t matter. It isn’t ever going to be where I am at, at this moment, because where I am at… or where I was… was not involving anyone other than myself. I need that. I need that for myself, time.

I just left this article. I can’t even take the time to use this… situation… for good. I stopped writing and I am now back five minutes later. Not doing what I was originally doing, and for some time there not even contributing to my creative self by writing about… this. Snake, tail, all that BS.

Dammit… more words. When will this end? Can… is there a point? Is there a conclusion. Intro, body and conclusion. That is what I learned about public speaking in fifth grade… shouldn’t that be the construct here? But it is not. It is just words unending.

Why?

And then, then I think of loneliness. Or when I was lonely. I would have wanted this conversation with a stranger. Yes, a stranger. I don’t know this person. I don’t know what will come of this conversation. But I do know when I was lonely this all would have been welcome. I would have dropped everything.

I got over loneliness at… some point. Now this mixture of feelings is turning a murky and ugly brown-ish grey. I’m shitty for thinking all of this. For wanting my time. This other person wants to talk to me, this other person has needs and I fill those needs.

Unless this person doesn’t. That may be the case here, and if so… my thoughts on this whole subject are right. No, it is my time regardless. I am right.

I want out. I can have this conversation later? Why not later? Why not at a time when I’m not in a zone?

Which.

I am.

No longer.

In.

Because.

Talking.