The Difference Between Lonely and Alone
8:36 PM
What
is so scary about being alone?
Weeks had stretched into months and months into years, waiting for the day that
I get to say what I had always hoped for my answer to be, loud and clear—nothing. Instead, it was everything. From the uncertainty of
taking risks knowing I have nothing to hold on to, to the fear of never having
anybody for as long as I live, to having to feel my insecurities make their way
deep into my soul, eating me alive and squeezing me dry of any will to live and
to love. For years, these thoughts haunted me and controlled my every move. No
matter what shape I had to cut myself into or how many coats of paint I had to
smother myself in to be a specific shade of pink or purple, I had been willing
to endure anything and everything, simply because I was too scared to be alone.
Four years of pure cluelessness of what
we were and where we stood were four years too long. I knew that then, and I
know it now. I was just too busy reveling in the way his arms felt wrapped around
me, like a cozy blanket enveloping me on a cold night, and too distracted by
the sweet words that I’ve only ever received from him to fully acknowledge it. Perhaps
he liked me, or loved me, even, and maybe I felt the same way about him, but those
were questions I had forcefully learned to block out, because I wasn’t sure if
I wanted answers. It would only
complicate everything, I always thought. I didn’t want to risk losing
whatever we had, even if it meant never knowing who or what I was to him. Instead,
I focused all my energy on being satisfied with the way things were and I tried
my very best to find contentment in merely having a hand to hold and a shoulder
to lean on, because I’d rather have a small piece of him than none at all.
Still, I couldn’t stop the hopeful thoughts of a possible happily-ever-after
for us two from lurking into my mind.
I remember my friends constantly scolding
me for being so stupid for settling with way less than what I deserve and
telling me that I need a love that’s sure. For so long, I had always replied
with a simple it’s okay, I’m happy with
the way things are. That’s why it tasted so different and foreign on my
tongue to say I know, I’ve grown tired. It wasn’t a
realization that dawned on me overnight, nor was it some sort of divine
intervention—it was more of a slow and gradual learning process, in the same way
that one unfolds truths and revelations about a story as they read each word
and flip through every single page of the book. I’ve come to realize the kind
of life that I have been living.
I was scared of being alone because of
all sorts of uncertainty that came with it, but it was in those four years that
I had spent with him that I had felt the most confused and unsure of who I was.
I was scared of being alone because then I might end up spending my life unaccompanied
for eternity, but it was in those four years that I had spent with him that I
pushed so many people away, both old and new faces, worried that he might get
hurt or feel replaced. I was scared of being alone because it triggered my
insecurities, but it was in those four years that I had spent with him that I’d
felt the most inadequate, because I knew at the back of my head that I’d always
love him more than he loves me.
Like the same sun that has risen on a new
day, I finally have the strength in me to answer nothing. There is nothing
scary about being alone. If it had been possible for me to find loneliness
even in the company of another, then I can find serendipity and companionship
in solitude.
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