Written by Alex Danielle Guerrero

I think I have found a friend in loneliness. Being alone is my favorite hobby, my thoughts, my most preferred companions.

It must be because everything is annoying, my teen self used to say. What better way to escape loud chatter, heavy lectures, and screeching reminders than going to a place devoid of any people but you? On bad days, I think it must be because I envy the people who can keep up with the fast-changing world. I was always slow and behind everyone’s steps, so I found solitude in being alone. After all, I cannot feel jealous of things I will not be able to see.

But on a relatively better day, I think I like being alone because I do not want to burden other people. My thoughts are either too loud or too jumbled to share with other people. I also feel too much so I cannot afford to risk a misunderstanding. My tongue even gets tied up before I can open my mouth. God knows the needle-pricking pain of enduring an awkward silence.

Today, however, I feel like an alien to my body. Because for the first time, I hate being alone.

Since the pandemic started, everyone is locked in their homes, alone and distant from everyone else. I felt it was a good deal for introverts like me because I no longer have to make excuses to not attend social gatherings. I could go on with my day without worrying about maintaining conversations or replying to IM chats. I can let my thoughts free in the open and not bother with possible consequences.

But all of the thrill I got from these soon died out. I started to miss listening to people talk about their days. I started to miss having my messy thoughts occasionally slip mid-conversation with my friends. I even started to regret cancelling on all those social gatherings. Even if I have to endure a painful awkward silence, I think I would not mind it.

Sure, I can easily talk with the people I love with the technology we have today. But it doesn’t feel enough, real enough. I can’t feel their hands hit my shoulder when they crack a joke. I can’t hear their boisterous laughter next to my ear when we make some stupid remark. I can’t be with them in the places we planned to visit together. I can’t receive a hug when I badly need it. And likewise, I can’t touch their back and give them a hug when they’re sad. I don’t want to be alone anymore if I only have to experience these things.

Maybe it’s true I have found a friend in loneliness. After all, I still see myself running to my small little bubble when things around me become difficult. This time, however, I think I don’t want to be alone. It’s painful to actually lose physical contact with the world and the people around me. I don’t want to take for granted anymore the things I used to have.