loneliness

Loneliness, to me, is one of the most complicated human experiences.
And strangely, it often feels worse when you’re with someone than when you’re truly alone. When you’re physically alone, the emptiness feels expected. But when you're with someone and still feel unseen, unheard, or misunderstood—that’s a different kind of ache. A deeper one.

I believe loneliness isn’t something we can escape. We are born alone. And if that’s the case, how can the presence of another person truly erase this feeling? It seems to me that loneliness is an integral part of being human. No matter who we’re with or how connected we appear to be, there’s always a space within us that no one else can fully enter.

Instead of trying to get rid of that feeling, maybe we need to accept it. Embrace it. Learn to sit with it without fear. But as human beings, we’re terrified of it—afraid that if we let it in, it will consume us.

And yet, I wonder: if it did consume us, would that be so bad?
In many ways, the relationships we build in our attempt to escape loneliness can end up being more consuming, more draining, than the feeling itself.

Because whether we’re alone or surrounded by people, loneliness doesn’t really leave us.
It stays. It’s part of us. And perhaps, it always will be.

Which is worse? Maybe it depends on the day. Sometimes, being alone at least feels honest. But being lonely with someone can feel like being stranded in plain sight—like screaming in a room where no one hears you.

The hard truth might be that they’re not opposites, but reflections of the same truth: that what we’re really aching for isn’t just company, but understanding, presence, depth.

And if you’re not sure which is worse, that’s okay. Sometimes the pain doesn’t want to be labeled. It just wants to be felt.

You’re not broken for feeling this. You’re just human.