Well, that’s the point of being alone—it’s not anything to do with you. It’s about being something in someone else’s life, and no one ever knows the difference, or the truth. That’s why people like bad movies and bad fiction, and it’s worth it, it’s worth it, it’s worth it.
Over at the Paris Review, Sadie Stein describes one lonely evening where she forced herself to go out dancing. And then there was a twist…
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