Loneliness gets a bad rap.

I liked going for long walks, very late at night around my quiet cul-de-sac neighborhood in Andover. Crickets, wind and frogs was all I heard.   I would walk the whole perimeter, winding my way down each short street (there were three) saying the names of the occupants of each house in my mind as I passed them before arriving back at my own home.

I'd spark up a joint, like it was cool, blow out a cloud and I'd survey my lands.  I really went there - the, "all that I see is mine" place.  I'd imagine a girl my age who just moved in, sitting on one of the homes' front steps, missing all her friends back in Minnesota or California or wherever her parents tore her from and ruined her life.  We'd hang out and talk for hours and I'd tell her how I hated my parents when we moved, but it gets better.  She'd smile and put her head on my shoulder.  Then we would just be.  These walks were never sad.  I always had a legit smile on my face.  I went on that walk a hundred times and "met" many cool people in my mind, but in all those years, I never saw another person.  Not even once.