It's not necessary to apologize when you don't feel anything. I'm not saying this from experience, I'm saying it from feeling it. 

Here's another day in life, prying osmotically through the bedroom walls, wondering how being alone can be factored in. I'll compile a list of how it feels to be alone, a list in the true sense, with numbers, period dots, and shaped like a venetian blind. 

1. The car seat on your ass when driving alone, don't neglect to feel it, or ignore the nicking razor of the seat belt. 

2. Walking in circles. You can wind an unseen spool in skates. You can wind a set of laces to be put away. 

3. The stairs are percussive. The mechanics of walking can be undone over time. You can make your walking tight like a sensible passer-by, downtown, in-skirt. 

4. My wits are about me, I walk like a demon with a wicked, sour nose. I've got pink air in my spine, I let my legs fly and flag you down with my face. 

6. I'm possessed of some very loose feeling, and it's gone as soon as memory ignites its heavy bin of parts. It's night: dreams are my good sensory bin, light as air.  

7. In the afternoon, do we have the same number of shadows? Well don't number the shadows, that's been a problem ever since you became one.