When loneliness becomes a fetish!!!

Sometimes loneliness ceases to be pain. It becomes a ritual, something almost unruly.
You come home, turn on some music, pour some wine—and you don't wait for anyone. Not because there's no one, but because you don't want to share yourself.
You taste the power over time and yourself. It's a special pleasure—not having to explain, not having to adapt, not having to depend.
But somewhere deep down, a tiny hunger still lingers—the desire for someone to see your self-sufficiency and want to destroy it.
The paradox is that the more you enjoy solitude, the harder it is to allow intimacy. It becomes a drug—and, like any drug, it gives you a high until it starts to kill you from the inside.