Leave a Loner

I'm spending most of my time asleep with the cat, because there isn't enough caffeine in the world to keep me awake for more than six hours. Since my brain has become a ball of fluff, I'm going to share an older journal entry of mine... that may or may not still lack luster. I'm too tired to read it. 

A Journal Entry:
I believe that most people view one’s desire to be alone as an admission of insanity. As someone who has been a loner for as far back as my memory serves, I doubt that there is anything else behind the quirk, apart from finding crowds and prolonged engagements distasteful and/or draining.
I shop at Walmart because it’s open during the odd hours- the time where very few people venture out of their hovels and into the florescent lighting that illuminates the cheap, coveted spoils perched beneath it. If I plan on retiring to bed at a decent time, I leave my house after ten. I’ll often arrive just barely late enough to beat the minimum wage rush hour (retail stores usually close at nine in the evening as opposed to the office jobs that end at five). My habit is usually flawless, and I’m left alone to do my shopping without being shoved or squeezing through blubber, just to get a roll of paper towels.
My method was foiled recently, in the worst possible way. I went to Walmart for groceries the other night, stopping into a different location out of curiosity. It was mostly deserted, which was appealing. I made it through the doors and got about seven feet in before I was approached by a young man, who asked me if he could use his food stamps for my purchase in exchange for cash. He told me that he would buy me five dollars worth of additional groceries for my trouble. I politely declined and he badgered on. Finally, I told him that I wanted to be left alone because I had had one of ‘those days (the term which is universally accepted, but never defined),’ and so he left me and went elsewhere.
It wasn’t long before I was bothered by his wife, who wanted baby formula. She had a sob story. I listened, all the while feeling as though long, tiny screws were being drilled into my head. When that was over, I went to the register to purchase my things, which were no longer as appealing as they could have been, had I wandered about on my own accord without all of the unnecessary mental anguish. They were dirtied and just as worn from it all as I was. At the register, the cashier wanted to know where I was from and who I was… blah, blah, blah. I don’t think that I actually said any coherent words to the people who spoke to me that night. I believe that I responded with a series of barely audible Ah‘s and Eh’s and No…’s.

 There isn't much else to the story, so I'll shuffle to work instead of committing further ramblings.

Weight: 114  113  112  111  110  109  108  107  106  105  104  103  102  101  100  99  98  97  96  95

Height: 5'4"