lonely but not alone
People often say they’re alone but not lonely. It’s the opposite for me — I am lonely but never alone.
Loneliness has been one of my oldest and closest companions. It’s not a topic people want to hear about, so I hesitated to discuss it, but it’s a truth I carry. Despite being an extrovert, I am often lonely. It’s not a loneliness that makes me seek validation and unnecessary connections, but a loneliness that makes me want to go home and wrap myself in a warm blanket.
My extroversion is not natural but a survival skill, a habit formed from years of speaking on behalf of my mom and sisters in a foreign country. It was my responsibility to talk to landlords, doctors, and teachers. If I didn’t speak, who would? Looking back, I was just a child, a short girl with short hair but a clear voice. I still think of the younger me who was too scared to ask what “Notary Public” meant when speaking to a lawyer in Canada for the first time.
However, I’m not sad when I reflect on my forced interactions with what I felt like scary adults; they taught me that kindness and support often appear when you ask for it, and there are always people willing to help. More than anything, it taught me that communication, like self-expression and self-advocacy, is a skill that can be learned and practiced, and they say practice makes perfect. Over time, I became the extroverted person people see today — but that doesn’t mean I stopped feeling lonely.
From the outside, I might seem like someone who doesn’t often feel lonely. People see my social nature and assume I never feel alone. In truth, loneliness and I are deeply intertwined.
My relationship with loneliness began early, shaped by moving from private school to public school, from the equator to the northern hemisphere, from a country I was born in but not raised in. I don’t feel like I belong anywhere. I often tell my close friends that I think I am “not here nor there,” an “international orphan” with no true home. In that sadness, loneliness finds me, and in its way, it comforts me.
When people think of loneliness, they feel abandoned or rejected. But my loneliness is not a source of sadness. It’s a kind of solace, a blue friend that follows me everywhere, and in a way, I welcome her with open arms, because it’s a valid and real part of me. Rejecting her would only bring me more pain because there is a cold and harsh truth in my loneliness that is also a reality. Loneliness reminds me that, ultimately, I am responsible for myself. No one is coming to save me. That might be harsh, but it’s the truth, which is often cold and unforgiving.
Some might say I’m romanticizing loneliness, but there is a difference between accepting it and wallowing in it. I am not defined by loneliness, but I accept it as a part of me. It doesn’t make me less, weak, or anything else. It simply is.
I am not lonely; I feel loneliness. And that’s okay.
Learning to sit with loneliness has taught me to stand on my own. It has given me the courage to embrace both good days and bad, to learn about myself in ways I never would have otherwise. Loneliness taught me how to be okay even when I feel misunderstood, to find comfort in myself when there’s no one around, and to give myself the confidence to go anywhere and still have myself to return to.
Maybe that’s why I’m never in a rush to date or be romantically involved with anyone. I frown upon people who are always in new relationships one after the other (there’s something so wrong and off about this), rather than people who practice frequent casual consensual sex. I am very serious and mindful about my romantic relationships, and place heavy emphasis and consideration when selecting a potential partner.
I think that mentality comes from never feeling like I need anyone; when I start feeling like I need someone, I retreat and reflect. I’m not looking for someone to complete me because I believe I am whole. This may be a hot take, but I think we only really need ourselves and have the skills and talents to navigate and fully live our own lives. Of course, we can’t fix everything independently, and we all need support. Some might need more support than others, but we have the autonomy and abilities within ourselves to succeed.
Because I’m okay being alone, I’ve always chosen friends and partners carefully, not out of need but genuine desire. I don’t want a relationship that fills a void. I want one that is a conscious choice — to love someone not out of necessity but because they add something beautiful to my life. I am both the key and the keyholder to my life’s quality, and I want the people around me to be the keyrings and accessories surrounding that key that make it shine authentically and uniquely. My earliest memories of this mentality were when I was four; I remember going up to kids on the playground and saying, “I want to be your friend.” Again, it was always from a place of want, not need.
My definition of love constantly evolves, but one thing remains: love is a choice. Healthy love for me is a unique blend of desire and choice: the desire to love someone because I would choose them repeatedly. The friends I have now are people I prefer to keep around because they bring me joy and peace. Relationships take effort; sometimes, balancing my relationship with myself and the connections I nurture is hard. But I remind myself that people are in our lives for seasons and reasons. Right now, the people in my life are here because I chose them.
Recently, I’ve been trying to be more mindful of my language. Instead of “need” someone, I say I “want” them. I don’t need my friends to do anything for me. I want to spend time with them, laugh, and cheer them on.
Loneliness has taught me to value my connections and express my love without hesitation. It’s why people say I seem confident and not to be messed with — because I don’t allow anyone to violate my peace, values, or time. If someone disrespects me, I have no problem removing them from my life.
Loneliness has also taught me to diversify my sources of love and support and find them in different places and people. I don’t expect one person to be everything to me because that is unrealistic and unhealthy, creating unnecessary pressures and conflicts on the people we love and value most.
I think that’s the other aspect of love that is often not discussed. I find people put too much emphasis on their partners, expecting them to be everything: a therapist, a buddy, a friend, a cook, a supporter, a doctor, a teacher, and a lover. But the thing is, I don’t think one person can be everything, and the more we accept that fact, the better our relationships with others will be. This is why it makes me uncomfortable when someone calls their partner their “person”; it makes me want to tell them that they are not anyone’s person, they are their person, and you are your own, you choose to be together because it brings you joy and love.
Instead of relying on one person, I turn to different people for different needs.
When I could use a hug, I ask Jasmine, whose warmth was like a rainbow after rain.
When I want words of wisdom, I ask Mehr, whose words touch my heart.
When I am unmotivated, I look up to Alyssa, who gives me hope to keep moving forward.
When I feel chaos, I turn to Josh, who calms me down without a tone of judgment.
When I want someone to understand me without explanation, I go to Amy, who validates even my most complicated feelings.
When I feel inconsolable, I go to my mom, the one person who has always loved me unconditionally.
This is why I say I am lonely but not alone. My loneliness was born from my unique and complex life experiences and circumstances outside my control, which makes me feel like no one truly understands my experiences. But it doesn’t mean I lack love or support. My life is full of love, from friends, family, and even strangers. I am surrounded by people who care and want to see me happy. But still, there is a loneliness that lingers, my blue friend who is always beside me.
Instead of despairing at my experiences that are outside my control, loneliness has made me look within myself to find a common place that I can return to over and over again. No matter how chaotic and crazy the outside world may be, I can find home and comfort within myself. The support I see from others comes not from a need to escape myself but from a desire to add to the support I can provide.
Instead of running from it, I’ve learned to sit with it. In those quiet moments, I find myself. And in those moments, I realize that being by myself isn’t so bad.
If I am ever alone, it is out of choice. I choose to be alone. To be alone in a world full of people with no one to call a friend, no one to share love, support, care, and connection with is truly a miserable, painful, and depressing life. Thankfully, I am surrounded by so much love and support at all times that I have never been alone.
In this way, I am lonely but never alone. Even when I am alone, I am with myself, and that is good enough for me.
