The Strong One

I’m finding it way too easy to be by myself. No need to concentrate on being the softer, gentler Ellen, the one with long hair not the one with the aggressively short and dykish hairdo. (BTW, why oh why did it take me so long to grow out that supremely unflattering ultra short style? I look so much better and so much younger (!) with long hair. Did no one notice or were they afraid to tell me? Probably the latter.) I can eat a baked potato for dinner or even stuff myself with Mary’s crackers dipped into a container of Bobbi’s ultra garlic hummus. (Full disclosure: Sometimes I eat the whole thing!) I can blast Etana at full volume and sing along as I dance around the apartment. I can talk to myself all day long without worrying about freaking anyone out. I can be happy; I can be sad but, most of all, I can be lonely.