Since the time in my life realization dawned that I am lonely, I've wondered why. I've read up blogs and psychology excerpts, had discussion with closest of friends and random bar-mates.

 Of the concerns that developed through these for me to explore, I'll mention the second one first: I am probably not an interesting company.

 I've thought about it in-depth. Seems, a girl who looks pretty quite often, is an entertaining performer in parties, paints, sings, writes, expresses better than average, is not interesting enough. I'd add, not interesting to herself. Maybe all that I do, I do it for others. I must for that matter figure out what it is that I do for myself. (We're not considering the time I spend alone doing all this, coz we're looking at 'end of the day time' here.)

 That said, the primary concern appears to be that I have never lived alone. I have never been left alone when that was 'supposed' to be done. I grew up in a family where everyone was an insomniac and I as the youngest, was put to sleep earlier. I always slept with my mum since she was a divorcee and needed my arms to sleep in. By 'earlier' I don't mean nine thirty, I mean 12am or beyond. I would go to sleep amid loud television or a jugalbandi of classical Indian and jazz blues appearing from various rooms in my house. Those times have passed. I no longer live with that eccentric-night creature family I had once started out with. 

But the need for company at the end of the day, remained. Then came friends, love interests, and passions. All of which kept me up. 

Then came one day, I realized, I had been skipping from one of them to the other while all of them had their turn of solitude. And since I did not know solitude at the end of the day, it came across as loneliness to me. I am fine with solitude in the morning, the day and the afternoon. Its the nights that haunt me. 

I may go anywhere, do anything. But I must have a living being to come back to. And for that matter a living being I WANT to come back to.That, amongst other things makes me miserably dependent. 

Hope this self-imposition does me some good. I pray to this dark water spread out across my eyes outside my window, I pray to the chill that runs down not only my skin but my heart too, I pray to the vastness of the creator's intimidating nature of creation, I pray to power of all our sleeps and solitudes put together, come intimidate me, put me to a nights sleep preceding the ever-so-hopeful mornings, give me a little poetry for my pen where I lament and I enjoy it. Cradle me to a happy myself, a content myself.

  I'm really putting in a lot of effort.