Living alone is about strength 💪 It's about freedom, where your world belongs only to you. You can go to bed at three in the morning 🌙, you can have wine and fruit for breakfast 🍷🍓, you can dance in the kitchen in a T-shirt and no pants 🩲💃. No one bothers you, no one asks where you went or when you'll be back. The silence doesn't oppress you, but rather becomes your territory of power 👑 In this independence, there is no fear, only the taste of independence.
But as soon as pizza 🍕 appears, everything changes. There it is, a huge box, hot, fragrant, stretchy cheese, golden-brown dough, slices that seem to jump into your hands. And then suddenly you feel uneasy. Because pizza is the symbol of company. It is arguments over the last triangle, it is jokes with friends, it is hands reaching for one piece. It's made for laughter, for conversation, for "let's get another one."
And so you sit alone, looking at this box, and you realize: living alone is fine, but eating pizza alone is almost self-inflicted. Because every slice reminds you that sharing is more delicious than crunching in silence. Pizza alone is too intimate, too loud, and too wrong.
So living alone, yes, is strength. But I won't risk eating pizza alone. Because true freedom is when there's someone nearby who will take your last slice... and you'll only be glad 😏🔥