She can wake up at any hour between seven AM and noon, and never knows which it will be unless she has the rare appointment. If that appointment is before one in the afternoon, she sets her alarm clock for seven AM, just to remind herself. They’re just appointments with doctors and clinics, so it’s economically wise not to miss them. She rarely goes to bed before eleven, and often, even if she does, she tosses and turns until two or three. Naps in the afternoon, born from boredom, can last twenty minutes to three hours. Some weeks she sleeps all the time; other weeks she can’t sleep a wink.
A person alone gets old faster than a person with family, friends or things to do. She gets up and tries to establish routines to keep going. Each day she dresses, puts on makeup and jewelry and makes her bed, as if someone might come over and actually see her. Each Friday she marks another week survived, but for what reason she doesn’t know. Perhaps simply fear of the pain of suicide.
Without money, none of the events offered for lonely people are affordable. Heck, food is not affordable, nor gas to go anywhere. There is nothing to do but sit at home and wait for another day to pass.
Without family or friends, the free things she could enjoy are empty. They should be shared. Walking to the mailbox is simply a practice to see what the outside world is like.
Who cares? Not even she.