One should not complain about one’s choices, but as the saying goes, “when there are no good choices, all that’s left are bad ones.” In that case, can one really be expected to be happy about making a bad choice out of lack of good ones?

I know that I am alone because I choose to be. I know that had I been willing, there would have been a dozen people I could have been with. But I knew then that I would be miserable with them. And now I’m feeling how miserable it is to be without anyone.

These feelings frustrate me. I’ve always done well by myself and have preferred to be alone. So why is it that now things feel so terribly out of place, here by myself?

I went out and visited the herd. Ebony was, as usual for this time of year, rather standoffish. Ivory, on the other hand, has become quite the love sponge. She reminds me a bit of Jasmine. Certainly she looks like her…only taller. Yet even as I stood, squatted, and sat out there petting her, I didn’t feel any better. Something still feels out of place. I don’t know if it’s the property being in the state it still is, being by myself, or having just finished American Horror Story:Roanoke (awful season; it’s my least favorite, even worse than Freak Show), but something just felt so…wrong. It’s a sucky feeling. It doesn’t feel like the kind of wrong that makes you scared or apprehensive, though. I’ve felt that kind of wrong before, but here is not it. The place doesn’t feel like there are angry spirits seeking revenge. No, now that I think about it, the place feels as lonely as I do. The barn, old as it is, feels lonely. The trailer house feels lonely. The ground feels…lonely.

Or maybe I’m anthropomorphizing it too much. Nevertheless, my loneliness feels amplified tonight, and given I got nothing but a sense of contentment from Ivory, “meh” from Ebony, and “hey, are you food?” from Casper, I’m sure they’re not the source of it. That leaves the land. It seems weird to consider that land might be sad or lonely, and it seems weirder to contemplate how to fix lonely land…I mean, do you move a mountain to sit next to it, or…? I dunno. I wonder if working the land, getting it to where I want it to be, would help both of us. Spending time with it, it spending time with me, and maybe the two of us not feeling so damn lonesome.

I think part of me blames the guy at the bar. Not that he did anything deliberately; it’s on me for taking it the way I did, but if he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t gotten my hopes up, hadn’t had me distracted the whole week, maybe I wouldn’t feel so lonely now. Or maybe i would. I dunno. Right now, I’m just rambling. I’m tired, and I haven’t written anything for the story in two days. I think it’s time for sleep, and hopefully things will be better in the morning.

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