I am lonely, dreadfully so.
Loneliness… it’s sometimes a difficult concept to grasp. It creeps up on you, unassuming, writhing at parts of your brain, opening gates to parts of yourself you would rather not see.
Because being lonely isn’t just the need to be around people. It is more than that. Loneliness is a complex character that hides the darkest of corners, that pounces in the darkest of moments. It’s something you cannot tame nor understand in any sense. It is an enigma. Illusive and destructive.
I do have family.
I don’t have very many friends.
I have never been in a relationship.
I am lonely.
For the majority of the day, I am my own company, my own sense of humour, my own entertainment. This, I can withstand, this in many respects, I enjoy. I am an introvert. A lot of people, a lot of interaction does nothing for me, and I know it never will. What I don’t particularly like is the lack of options, the lack of any interaction at all.
I know I am at fault, mostly. I can’t expect to have friends or relationships if I don’t put myself out there, I know that. And knowing this hurts, because it is an extremely high hurdle to overcome, to even look at in a respectable light. Yet, here I sit, alone, typing these words, wishing there was someone next to me.
Maybe loneliness itself isn’t an entirely bad thing. We all realise and see the stigma and social pressures of being alone, they stare and slap us in the face on daily basis. This is, in part, why we feel lonely. Just maybe we can benefit from the lack of people. It gives us a chance to listen to our own rambling thoughts, to partake in all the commotion that resides in our own minds. Do something with that time, create, live life, be who you want to be. Loneliness doesn’t intrinsically mean unhapiness, it is a by-product – though it doesn’t have to be!
Just don’t forget, people are necessary.
(P.S, to all the beautiful introverts out there, read Susan Cain’s book ‘Quiet’.)