Solitude

I sometimes wonder whether I ever really asked for much from life but to be left alone. Unfortunately - and I do not doubt that a large part of it is my own doing - that is one thing that has not happened. Life barges into my world, demanding stuff (like waking up in the morning) that I really would rather not do.

There used to be a pleasure in going out and meeting people, in knowing more, in working, even. It seems to have gone to that place where my will to fight and my desire to express an opinon went some years ago.

"Solitude" was once a poem in my school textbook by W. Cowper. Now it seems to have become the one thing I cannot have.