她为什么总是独自一人即使身边有很多朋友呢
在一个宁静的下午，阳光透过窗户洒在她的书桌上，她 sits alone, surrounded by piles of books and papers. Her friends often gather here, but today she is alone. The silence is deafening, yet she seems to enjoy it.
She is a woman with many talents and passions. She loves literature, music, and art. She spends her days reading novels, writing poetry, and painting landscapes. But despite her rich inner life and the people around her who care about her deeply, she prefers to be alone.
Her friends have tried to understand her reasons for this preference. They think that maybe she needs time to herself to focus on her creative pursuits or perhaps she feels overwhelmed by social interactions. But deep down they know there's more to it than that.
One day one of them decided to ask her directly why she prefers solitude over companionship. "Are you afraid of intimacy?" he asked gently but firmly into the quiet room where they were sitting together in silence as always.
"No," she replied softly after a moment's pause," I am not afraid of intimacy at all."
"But then what makes you prefer being alone?" he pressed further trying hard not keep his voice from shaking slightly from worry for their friendship which seemed so fragile now like an eggshell ready for cracking under slightest pressure
"I just...I need my space" was all that came out before another long momentary pause filled only with the sound of ticking clock outside windowpane while we both waited nervously expecting some kind truth revelation from those lips so close yet so far away
The question hung in the air like a thick cloud waiting for its inevitable rainstorm which would wash away all doubts leaving behind clear blue sky once again but until then we could only stare at each other through tears eyes unsure if ever things would get back normal
