We all have two sides to our loneliness.
A fake facade that we put on like a second skin. We pretend that our loneliness is comfortable, warm, inviting. We pretend that our loneliness is welcoming, that we are not scared of being alone. We pretend that our loneliness is like a home.
But our loneliness haunts us.
When we are alone we scroll through our feeds, watching, wondering why we haven’t been invited. Our loneliness gnaws at our insides, pulling on our brains like children, begging us to answer the question: Why am I alone?
Why am I alone?
Is it my hair? My eyebrows? My clothes? Do I smell bad? Do I laugh too loud? Do I talk about myself too often? Are my clothes too frumpy? Are my fingers too cold? Is my conversation too boring? Am I not exciting enough? Am I not happy enough? Am I not nice enough? Am I? Am I? Am I?
Are you what?
You are fine.
You are smart, and fun, and exciting. You are intelligent, and beautiful, and intriguing, and inspiring. You are a gift. I don’t know from whom, but you light up the world.
Loneliness is supposed to be uncomfortable. To be truly alone is to feel the weight of only yourself, and that weight is allowed to feel like too much. That is why we have people.
People who love us, and care about us, and want us to be with them. People are our reasons.
Reasons to live, and breath, and laugh, and cry, and fight, and learn, and unlearn, and be.
So allow the loneliness to creep in, to make you feel uncomfortable. Because loneliness tests us. It shows us who we are. Because what better way to find who you are than to
just be alone.