If we put our hearts in twenty thousand tiny jars, they'd never leave their homes.

"My Hazard wouldn't be yours, not ever;
But every doom, like a hazelnut, comes down
To its own worm. So I am rocking here
Like any granny with her apron ever her head
Saying, lordy me. It's my trouble.
There's nothing to be learned this way.
If I heard a girl crying help
I would go save her;
But you hardly ever hear those words.
Dear children, you must try to say
Something when you are in need.
Don't confuse hunger with greed;
and don't wait until you are dead."*

The wind howls through the fiddling, whistling and whining and at times roaring. It's doing the same through me, and the piercing cold dry wind is finding the warm wet caves I'm hiding. They are full of loneliness, my loneliness is aching these days. I am shocked by the simple isolation my habits find me in. It's easy to be alone when you live in a group.

I long for a partner to spend these silent Sundays beside. I wish for the quiet, uncompromising companionship I've dreamed about in place of my wedding day. I don't know where to find this person, who will sit with me, book in hand, all day while I am quiet, who will simply be.

I don't know where to find this person, because she is not hiding in bar corners, where I so earnestly search for her. She is hiding at home under the covers on Sunday. She is wrapped up in blankets, napping and reading books.

"I've started to wonder if I'm in love with her. But as I say it out loud I realize how ridiculous it sounds, how impossible it would be. 'Kelly, I know I've been a little clingly lately, and well, frankly, I want to go to bed with you.' That's not what I want. I don't know what I want. What I know is that I'm empty and she fills me up like no one else can, male or female."[!]

The wind is still howling as a read Frankenstein. It's unnerving the similarities I can draw between Dr. Frankenstein and myself. If I created life, would I love if because it existed and it was a part of me, or would I love it for how it loved me?
I am held captive in my monomainia and I don't want to be this way, I long to be social, to be a part of a whole a part of society and I want to love, I live so fully to love and be loved and I feel impatient that my time here is wasted in not loving.

The part of me that keeps me in bed all day, curled under the blankets in feverish naps, and up all night sitting in my windowsill watching the cabs crawl through the fog, keeps me up here, in my isolation and says so loudly that this ache inside will not be assuaged by socialization today, it's best to stay indoors, eat alone, read alone, sleep alone, and be content in your run on sentences and your photography and keep doing these things that make you awesome, but oh so alone.

Where are you hiding? I am coming to find you.

I made a depressing mix cd today. Tomorrow I'll try for something happier.

There is a place, inside me, where one hundred women live. It's full of light and anything but lonely... I close my eyes and imagine them sitting close together in interlocked circles, talking, holding each other, laughing...When I am alone I laugh along with them. It's only when the men invite themselves in - into this room, into the laughter, even into me, - that the links of this woman chain is weakened. The men call, and the women come.[!]

* "Advice - Ruth Stone Except from:
[!] One Hundred Women - Kristina Halvorson

I have read this play countless times. I can nearly recite it word for word from memory. It feels like an autobiography of my life. When I am feeling lonely and isolated I take it out and peel back the pages and remember all the women inside me, all the different parts of me that can overtake the lonely. I remember that I am loved and I am awesome.