I’ve never been too keen on the idea of being alone. I’m blessed to say that I’ve had a strong support system throughout my entire life. I’m not the type of person who was a part of a large group of friends who does everything together. I was never in a sorority. My Facebook page isn’t bombarded with pictures of thirty girls stacking on top of each other to get into one picture. I have strong ties with a select number of people, and those ties are ones that I know can never be broken. I’ve been so dependent on these people every time things in my life have gone awry. I’ve always known that someone was going to be there for me; to listen to my complaints, to pick up my broken pieces.

Now, I’ve reached a point where these people aren’t so readily available to come to my rescue because they have other things in their lives that take priority. I didn’t like the feeling of it. For the first time in my life, I’m learning to adapt to self-soothing. I kind of feel like a new-born baby who’s crying, but no one is picking them up. Eventually, that new-born is just going stop crying. Well, I’ve learned to stop crying. I guess I can say I’m officially entering a new level of maturity?

It’s weird to admit, but I’m starting to be okay with knowing that there isn’t always going to be someone to catch me when I fall…and that’s the part that scares me. I’m okay with being alone.