Solitude and Companionship
What I learned from my second time living alone.
When I saw a bunch of people enjoying themselves, all I thought was, “What’s so fun about that?” But being made aware of my death must have corrected my desperately warped value system. I longed for companionship just like anyone else.
—Sugaru Miaki, Three Days of Happiness
Reading that line for the first time, it hit me like tons of bricks. It was as if everything I’d learned from my second time living alone was gracefully put into words.
And within those words are two lessons that shaped my way of thinking.
Here we go.
🌒 You will enjoy solitude
There is a difference between being alone and feeling lonely. There may be times when you hate being by yourself, and when even looking at the person in the mirror is the last thing you wanna do.
But, sometimes, you enjoy the solitude so much that people around you give you the “antisocial” label. And you’re fine with that.
A few weeks ago, I was on a walk past midnight.
No presence.
No notification.
No conversation.
On a silent night when time seemed to have taken a break, everything appeared to be moving slowly — at a pace as if there was no need to rush; no need to feel behind; and no need to feel breathless.
A night that is truly made for me.
It was when I realized how different my life had been back then as compared to how it is now — how most of the things I did was in the presence of people, and how the present is in the absence of them.
As I’m penning down my thoughts, I’m reminded of the sunset I saw after almost every evening walk; of the books that brought me into another world, even as the real world around me seemed to have fast-forwarded; and of the path that I’m taking, even as most people seem to have lost themselves to a rat race.
Those are the times when I truly appreciate the beauty of solitude — how it isn’t a weakness, and how it could be enjoyable.
But, for some, they’d rather be electrically shocked than stay with themselves for 15 minutes.
Whether it’s taking a late-night walk or sitting alone in a restaurant, some of us just couldn’t do it. We thought that doing things by yourself is a scary thing. It is as if the world would be staring at us, and judging our every move the second we eat that Oreo cheesecake in the café alone.
At some point in life, that was what I felt. But, looking back, that way of thinking was meaningless as
most people are too focused on themselves to even think about others.
So, yeah.
It is okay if you want to have a fancy dinner, go to a movie you’ve always wanted to see, and hit the gym as a beginner, even if you’ll do them alone.
It is fine to enjoy doing something, even if you aren’t telling the whole world through Instagram stories.
That is just how amazing solitude is.
But, writing this reminded me of one thing — of how there is almost always a desire in me (and perhaps you too) to share with someone the breathtaking sunset I saw, the heartwarming lines I read, and every other beautiful moment I came across.
Why?
Because, my friend, of the second lesson I learned.
🫂 You will enjoy companionship
When I first started living alone, I was literally alone.
Eating alone.
Walking alone.
Working out alone.
#whydoIfeelsadwritingthis
After getting over with the blues in the last letter, I’d often jump into my bed at the end of the day with my eyes glued to the screen. That year of 2019 was when my first ever “slump” began — an endless period on the roller coaster of “productive” and “waste-man”; of euphoria and despair.
When the pandemic hit, things went south.
People got further from one another. Face-to-face classes were replaced with virtual lessons. And my roller coaster headed straight into the world of unproductive waste-man monsters. #itrhymes.
Needless to say, my relationship with hedonism that came with freedom got worse. It was when you could call me “antisocial” or eccentric, and I’d be too lazy to care.
But, after starting university, things began to change.
I joined a club that offers a buddy system, allowing the seniors to befriend and support the juniors in the same course. I was lucky to be assigned to a group that made me feel more welcomed than ever.
After coming to campus, there would be times when we went on a morning jog and had dinner together. It was indeed a blessing to have met great people through this club that made going to university feel less overwhelming.
That was when I realized what I’d been missing out on — a sense of belonging.
It was what made my life as a high school student and a Leo memorable. It was what made me feel blessed in my first month on campus. It was what inspired me to write this letter.
I felt belonged.
The thing is,
if you feel socially distanced from those around you; if you feel lonely without a community to feel belonged to, that’s when solitude becomes unbearable.
That’s when you begin to turn away from companionship and seek the lost joy through other forms of entertainment, be it spending hours on social media or watching yet another show on Netflix in one go.
I’m sure you know this — we’re born to connect.
People come into our lives either to teach us a lesson or to gift us a moment. We derive joy, meanings and memories from those we chose to keep.
That’s why companionship is so valuable. Whether it’s joining a social event or putting your phone away during a meal with your loved ones, there are simple changes we could make to feel truly connected.
And the choice is yours to make.
💬 Afterword
Living alone for the second time has taught me this👇️
You will enjoy the solitude, and crave companionship from time to time.
Hence, it’s fine to decline a Friday night out to be with yourself. It’s alright to go for a morning jog alone for the blissful calmness. It’s okay — and in fact — necessary to prioritize your well-being just like how every plane safety announcement tells you to secure your oxygen mask before you help others.
But, while you’re enjoying the solitude, make time for companionship. Make time to catch up with an old friend and be with those who matter to you.
When times get tough, you would want evidence that you’re not alone in the life you lead. And the memories you create from companionship are your best proof.
—Thomas