We are born alone and we die alone; that’s what my mother tells me. I agree that it’s an ominous start, but it gets better—I promise. A few years ago, I had a completely different notion of being alone. I always perceived it as a dark and empty space within me and my thoughts. It doesn’t sound pleasant, and experiencing “loneliness” was not lovely either.
In that dark room, I was never alone. Apart from the nagging thoughts, I was surrounded by people like my family and friends. All of them wanted to see me happy and succeed. Yet, even being around my loved ones, I felt lonely.
It’s easy to interchange the word “alone” with “lonely,” but from my experience, I believe it should not be that way. Apart from the literal meaning, being alone is physically by yourself, whereas being lonely is being disconnected from yourself. Truthfully, one can be alone but not lonely, and one can be lonely but surrounded by people.
I understood this difference the hard way. I came to Toronto a year ago, and I left all that was familiar to me. I travelled about 7229 miles to this concrete jungle from Delhi, India. This time, I was truly alone, but I was not lonely. I met new people and I went to different places with them, but since I’ve been here, I have been to many places that people would generally go alone, like to the museum or the movies.
I went to the Van Gogh exhibit alone. The people around me didn’t know me, and their loved ones accompanied them. I sat on the floor in a dark little corner and felt a specific type of peace that I had never felt before. I realized that I was not afraid to be seen alone, in fact, I loved being alone. I got to live out my dream when I was 12 years old by going to the Avengers S.T.A.T.I.O.N. on my own. I hope I made my younger self proud by doing it.
Like any other good experience, there are bitter moments as well. For one instance, I certainly didn’t enjoy taking pictures of myself from a bad angle and under horrible lighting conditions. This “issue” feels forgettable when I am enjoying an independent date with myself.
Coming back to the point of arriving alone and dying alone: I used to be afraid of this thought, but now, there’s something agreeable about it. Because, at the end of the day, I have seen with my experiences that being alone has proven to be the best dose of happiness. I’m glad that at the age of 20, I don’t rely on someone to accompany me when I feel low— there are enough places in this world that allow me to discover on my own.