Loneliness, I couldn't be more familiar with it.
Sometimes, it makes me want to cry; but most of the time, it brings me peace and quiet.
I long to be seen and understood, yet when that moment truly arrives, I never quite know what to do.
My good friend M is probably the one who understands me best in this world.
When I was little, I was always alone.
I loved listening to adults talk — I could sit there fobrhours.
They would ask, “Dobrou understand what we're saying?”
I wouldn't answer.
It felt like I understood, and yet, not really.
I didn't like running around under the blazing sun with other kids — I never knew what they were playing, and I didn't want to join.
I didn't like hanging out in someone's house, whispering about “secrets” that others didn't know.
Once, a girl said she had registered for something called OICQ.
I asked, “What's that?”
She smiled and said, “A secret.”
“Oh,” I replied.
And honestly, I wasn't that curious.
Later, I learned it was one of the earliest social media platforms — something only the “cool kids” (the ones from wealthy families) used.
I wasn't interested in that, nor in exam rankings.
But I still tried, and somehow ended up ranking first in the entire school.
Even that felt meaningless.
Still, life always needs something to pass the time.
I loved listening to FM radio late at night.
When the whole world was asleep, I'd hear two women talking — about work, about life, about music.
Music always sounds best in the quiet of the night.
I loved reading, drifting through words like water.
I loved being alone, quietly sitting with my own emotions.
Whenever I sit with my loneliness, my unease fades away.
I no longer fear being abandoned, nor failure, nor growing old alone.
Loneliness is not an enemy — it's like a blanket that wraps around me, letting me finally exhale.
Sometimes, loneliness is cold.
That kind of cold makes me wish for company.
But even in intimacy, I often feel that same coldness wrapping around my heart.
I used to wonder why even the people closest to me couldn't truly understand me.
Later, I realized — the connection I crave runs too deep.
It's something only I can give myself.
Only I can truly embrace my own loneliness.
Western psychology tends to trace everything back to “the family you came from”:
“It's all because of your parents.”
Oh, so what? Then I guess we just accept it.
Taoism says — wu wei (non-resistance).
You were born this way. Let your emotions flow through you; don't resist, don't flee.
Emotions are meant to move.
We are merely vessels, allowing them to pass through.
For thousands of years, humans have been trying to find reasons for their pain.
Just yesterday, I learned that on the island of Madagascar, there's fossa whose existence is to prevent lemurs from overpopulating.
Lemurs live in constant tension.
I asked, “Then if nothing hunts those big cats, won't they overpopulate instead?”
S said, “No, they'll die off — there wouldn't be enough food.”
Ah, nature is brilliant.
Everything balances, one link after another.
We humans are just another link in that chain.
So why must pain always have a reason?
Perhaps it's simply part of how nature keeps moving.