There it is—My Christmas present. It settles over the Earth like a muted cloak, but clear. 

Silence, darkness. When I speak, friends in San Diego, Omaha, and New York hear me. When I yell, it’s Budapest. This is the tinge of loneliness every man needs at least once in life. No conversation; just one unto himself. Forced to hear it, I wait. 

Being uncomfortable with silence is a sign of social weakness. This is  awkward. How does one with social anxiety even speak to himself? We start with introductions: 

I am a lover-

But as a lamp without a match. Awkward, reserved, but gripping the darkness, savoring the moments before dawn. 

I am a telemarketer-

Foreign and repeating a tired script, selling myself on improvement. I jump with the simple thought of personal success. 

I am a counselor-

No decisions will be made here. I only guide emotions and clarify facts. I have no responsibility to my patient when the hour’s over.

In fact, he never leaves.