Alone At Night
Surely there is nothing wrong with being alone at night. This is the time of the evening, after all, when one’s best thinking is done. And if someone was to knock on the door, why, that would disturb you, and if they were to come inside, an additional disruption — as you would have to stand up, and converse, and serve them drinks, perhaps. And the leaving is far worse than the arriving, far, far worse — with the See you soons and Until we meet agains, and the disordered gathering of belongings — and then the final exit, with a gust of wind being sucked out through the door; the wind forming a vacuum, like the intake of one’s breath through the teeth. …No, it is far better, then, to be alone like this at night, to be perched attentively in a chair in the darkness, your eyes watching the doorknob closely, to make sure that no one enters, no one comes in.
image – U.S. National Archives
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“Has anyone ever told you that you kind of look like Mr. Squidward from SpongeBob Squarepants? Only when you squint and make that face — the one I really hate.”
We neglect that we are one, an entity.
I may not be with anyone, but I’ve got enough self-respect to know that I deserve someone who values me. I don’t deserve someone that treats me so appallingly, and neither does she.
For three seasons we’ve laughed and cringed while watching the story of a man and a dog. As any fan of Wilfred knows, this isn’t your typical dog and this definitely isn’t your typical story