I find it hard to socialise.
Don’t get me wrong.
I sometimes don’t pick up calls, reply to chats. Don’t get me wrong.
I sometimes just need my own mental space.
A mental space where I can just sit in an empty room, or a rooftop.
Stare into oblivion.
Watch a dot on the wall. Or the pointed spire of distant tower. Or maybe the minute’s hand ticking by. Tick tock. Tick tock.
A mental space, where I think.
Think about the black hole. Or an alien from Mars. Or maybe time travel.
A trance, where I imagine.
Imagine myself in pink tulle. Or a date night. Or maybe, under spotlight.
A stupor, where I go places.
Places, to myself. A starry night, all to myself. Or a windy grassland. Or maybe, the balcony of a palace: where I, am the queen.
My mind needs its jog. It’s kind of sprint. It flies, dives, visualizes, envisages, figures out. It just needs its mental space.
Just don’t get me wrong.