When I'm alone, I can think.
Everything I've ever wanted to say flows smoothly through my mind. I can think up epic scenarios and witty dialogue with ease. Silently chuckle at a clever joke I read on the internet. Even obsess over that one show I watch. Sometimes I speak to myself, just for the sake of having a conversation. I should be saddened by this, yet so few things seem as satisfying as this.
During the nighttime, when the whole house is engulfed in darkness and silence, I lay awake in my bed, relishing it. They say silence is golden, and I'm inclined to agree.