Whenever I am by myself in a room, and I know I will be in that room for awhile, I have a mental container:
I pretend I’m in a spaceship.
It’s not just any spaceship. It’s a little solo craft, and the living capsule/habitat is about as big as a room (whatever room I’m in).
I can look out the window, but I know whatever I see is just a projection. It’s just me and the ship, and whatever it is I decide to do. Writing, reading, napping, stretching, catching up on some long overdue personal project I’ve been meaning to get to.
The first time I remember thinking about this is maybe 10 years ago. I started writing a short story where most people go crazy on long solo journeys, but some “couriers” are comfortable by themselves for a long time. What’s different about them – does something in the way their brains work differ significantly from how others’ brains work?
Looking back, I was probably trying to figure out something about myself.
Now, though, I kind of like it. This little container, lit with lamps and no overhead lights, mostly quiet with intermittent hums and pings of air conditioning or pipes or electronics, shuttling me to whatever is next. Protecting me while I hurdle through space.
Does anyone else feel cozy when they’re so alone?
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