Years ago, as I walked up the steps leading to the entrance of the high rise I worked at, my reflection on the glass doors stopped me cold. It wasn’t my appearance. It was a realization; the kind that seems so suddenly easy and true and obvious. I knew, right there and then, that I would be alone forever. It didn’t make me feel sad. Not at all. It made me feel unique and important and it gave me license to wallow and brood and feel like a character in a novel. These days, it seems that I’ve lost my ability to wallow and brood. It’s a pity. It used to be so satisfying. It made me feel real and authentic even though feeling lonely used to send me into an internal panic. I had to stop thinking about myself as part of a couple and somehow I managed it. But I don’t care anymore. I’ve settled into my destiny because I know the future.

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