The extreme desire to be alone.
Is it really that blasphemous?
I woke up alone — feeling a mystique so unmatched I don’t know what to compare it with,
the slowness of time, hitting me like a calm sea wave.
I light a rose incense and I try to remember the last time I woke up with someone, enveloped in the smell of someone else — and what that felt like.
I remember only a rush, a strange hurriedness to run towards emptiness.
Am I a misanthrope? A recluse? Or am I just addicted to my solitude? Is it a mix of everything?
When did I become this person, craving to be left alone? Can I pin point a moment, a day, a month or even a year?
I can’t.
Is it sinful? This paramount desire to be alone?
And then to actualize it?
Is it sheer blasphemy?
The rose incense burns away, almost entirely.
I have my answer.
I commit the unforgivable sin every day.