One year.
Nearly a year.
Within that year, she made friends.
Within that year, she rekindled with old ones.
Within that year, she lose some of her friends.
Within that year, she didn't care all that much of having friends.
A Year.
One year.
Looking back now as she sits in the library of her southern Georgia university's campus, she remembers of all that times she went to Barnes & Noble. All the coffee she drank, all the "girls night out" she had, all that beautiful pictures she took and edited, all the fall-orientated outfits she picked out. Even all that simple work she did, even the days where she knew she wasn't depressed or unhappy. Hell, what about those days where she couldn't stop laughing?
And then there were days when shit got real.
When people started acting strange.
When people would be mad for no reason.
When people were upset for no reason.
When everyone pretty much despised each other.
When everyone started to separate to be on their own.
And then the days when she was all alone.
But that's she ever wanted, was to be alone.
She found comfort in that. It was her muse. It taught her to be content.
It taught her so many things about herself that even she hadn't knew before.
In one year, she loved, learned, lost, and was no longer lonely.
Just alone.
