I think there’s a reason I’ve always loved mornings when no one is awake yet, or sentences that take up half a page, or sitting cross-legged in the dark of my room at one in the morning. There’s something significant to me that comes from being entirely taken away from the world, in the literal sense and also the figurative. I read a book recently that quoted Henry David Thoreau, “Not till we are lost, in other words, not till we are lost from the world, do we begin to find ourselves, and realize where we are in the infinite extent of our relations”, who was able to speak everything I think about in words more elegant, more reflective, more well put together than mine could ever be. And that itself was able to take me away from the world, just a little snippet of words mushed together that were able to make mine feel insignificant, but in just the right kind of motivational way. I write when I’m alone, and that’s always been for a reason. That’s when I see most clearly, that’s when everything blocking my mind suddenly is able to poof into dust that will not return until I am finished. Of course, it’s not just writing, it’s an endless number of things that I do better on my own, no matter how much I sometimes wish and hope and dream of the day I could do everything in the presence of people, and do it well. I can’t yet, though. And that’s ok. It only takes Henry David Thoreau to convince me that, yes, my desire to be taken away and separated from so many of life’s busy tasks is just a part of life, and eventually it will be these little lost moments that help me to discover those words I’ve been hoping to write all along.