[hermit autoplay\=”false” mode\=”circulation” preload\=”auto”]remote#:2[/hermit]
I don’t have many friends, and I’ve made peace with that. These days, friendship can blur into something far less trustworthy; sometimes the people around you end up doing the work of your enemies for them. In that sense, being alone can feel safer, even cleaner.
There are nights when the sadness arrives without any clear reason. You get sick, you can’t sleep, you sit up in the dark and light a cigarette, trying to understand what exactly hurts. But nothing explains it. Outside the window, everything is black. You can’t see into the distance, and you can’t see your future either.
At some point, the only thing left is to return everyone to their proper place. Give yourself back to yourself. Give others back to themselves. Let flowers be flowers, and trees be trees. After that, let the mountains and rivers go their separate ways, never crossing again. If there is another life, then hopefully there will be no more seeing, no more owing, no more unfinished attachments.
Life often feels less like something you control and more like a dream that happened to you. At certain moments, the only explanation seems to be fate. When you look back carefully at the turning points, the important scenes, the things that once felt decisive, you suddenly realize how small you really are. Without whatever protection luck or fate has given you, your dreams might have been gone long ago. All those grand plans for life can disappear in an instant. In the end, it can all feel like a joke.
So why are people so afraid of being alone?
Because solitude makes the inner voice impossible to ignore. When no one else is around, that voice keeps asking the same questions: What do you actually want from this life? What kind of life feels meaningful to you? What is all of this for?
And the more it asks, the more restless you become. You grow anxious and irritated. You want it to stop. You cover your ears, metaphorically or otherwise, and tell it to be quiet. But when the voice finally falls silent, what takes its place is not peace. It is emptiness. It is confusion.
That is why being alone so often comes with anxiety, hollowness, and unease. Most people would rather not listen at all. They choose busyness instead. Entertainment, work, indulgence, constant movement—anything to drown out the questioning inside.
But none of that really solves it. Only when you can answer the questions your heart keeps asking do you begin to enjoy solitude. Only then does being alone stop feeling like punishment and start feeling like quiet.
That’s all ! thanks !