I hate being alone.
I have friends who live alone by choice. Some are compelled to. My landlady has chosen to be alone even at 75+.
Inspiration is the last thing that I can draw from them. I hate being alone. Perhaps I am too used to family life. Even one hour of solitude seems to kill me. I hate returning to an empty home after work. I hate unlocking rooms to find the mess I had left behind. I hate lazing alone. I look up to the work that has to be done, but cannot move a limb. I do not feel like cooking for myself either. Sleep deserts my eyes, and so does my love for reading. My zombie mind does not find peace in talking on phone either.
What to do?