I know them, but they are not me. There are people who can not stand to be alone with their thoughts ever. They are the ones who are always living with a roommate, have lots of friends around all the time, are extremely social, and if they are alone, they’re reaching out remotely via text, email, phone call, carrier pigeon, etc. These are the people that “social networking” was created for.

Sometimes, I envy them. It must be nice to be able to make connections so easily, to be so free with yourself to others. I, however, can’t live like that. I need my space.

I love going for walks. I have the privilege to do that where I live.  There are trails everywhere, and many quiet, country dirt roads. I actually consider myself lucky when I can go for miles and not run into another person.

Sometimes, I think that sounds selfish. Maybe it is. I’m suppose to be a member of society, provide input, engage in dialogue for the common good. I’m suppose to voice my beliefs, be a part of the solution, do my part. I’m suppose to provide comfort, counsel, support, and love to my fellow man. In small, inconspicuous ways, I try, but it’s not something that comes naturally to me. I have a very tight web of people that get my genuine company, like it or not, and that’s usually about it.

Everyone else, well, they get the friendly but guarded version. And, whether I want to admit it or not, I need them. In order to make a living, put food on the table, and stay in good graces with my husband and the IRS, I need them to read my books and make a social connection with me, at least on an abstract level through my characters. If that’s how I connect, so be it.

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