I like being alone. The quiet comforts me. I would always
prefer a quiet room than a rumbling crowd. I rather spend my day in an empty
coffee shop seeing people walk pass than spending my time hanging out with my
friends even though they might be just
one call away. I am not a social person.
Even though I have no trouble in conversations, I felt my energy drained
out really fast when I am with someone. I don’t like faking smiles and acting
on.
I like my own company, after all, I cannot stand most
people. They only brought disappointment and stress to my life. They make my
days worse instead of better. I gave up my hope on dealing with people. I
consider myself independent, I can take care of myself, I can reach success
without a hand to guide me, I don’t need to rely on anyone else to bring me
happiness. I learned to find my own happiness, alone.
But there are some days that I hate being alone. My thoughts
will haunt me so much that I think I might
possibly die alone fifty years down the road. I hate having a million
things to say but no one to listen to them. I hate being cooped up in my house
all day long because no one is around to convince me to go out. I hate how
infrequent my friends and I reach out for conversations. I hate the small
amount of notifications that fill my phone. I hate feeling like there is not a
soul in this world who considers me a priority.
I dislike the feeling like every single day is on a repeat
event from yesterday, last week and/or last month because my schedule never
changes. No one invites me out, set plans with me or wants me around. Most of
the time, I feel like I don’t have anyone at all – and I’m not sure how to
change that for the better. Even though there are days that I lock myself away
to avoid human interaction, there are most days I wish I could go back to the
time where we will stay up all night talking and run for McDonald’s breakfast
before noon and re-do all the crazy things we did before we parted different
way.
I have a love-hate
relationship with the moments I had alone. Sometimes it saves me, but most of the time, it suffocates me.
