Of Friendships and Friends, Of Inspiration, Of Stories

Of What We Actually Mean

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For most of my life, I’ve wanted to be alone – far away from the drone of noises crying excitement; away from the blaring horns of buses and cars; away from the busyness that surrounds life.

At times, I’d wish the ground would open up and swallow me inside into a world of maddening oblivion. In those times, everything felt hazy. Every step I took made me feel immensely tired. Yet I wanted to run away to some place where nobody could find me.

“I want to be alone,” I’d tell them when they’d coax me to attend their parties.

“I want to be alone,” I’d tell them when I’d be fighting the adamant tears from escaping.

“I want to be alone,” I’d tell them when they’d ask me if I were okay.

“I want to be alone,” and they’d quickly scurry off in a desperate attempt to give me some space. They’d always respect my decision and desire and wouldn’t bother to ring me up until I did so.

Now that I think of those times, I find myself wondering if I really wanted to be alone.

No.

When I told them I wanted to be alone, a part of me feverishly craved for someone to stay behind an offer me a shoulder to cry on.

When I told them I wanted to be alone, I wanted someone to stay behind and hear me out.

When I told them I wanted to be alone, I wanted them not to leave.

When I told them I wanted to be alone, I meant, I didn’t want to be.

I agree we have complicated notions. Complicated emotions.When we are, in fact, bubbling with so much to say, we cut short with a simple ‘Nothing’. When tears prick our eyes, we blink them back and smile. When we are hurting deep inside, we still manage to pick ourselves up and walk.

It is about knowing what those sweet nothings hold. It is about knowing what those smiles hide. It is about knowing that no matter how strong a person pretends to be, they still have a vulnerable side.

And how I wish, back then, each time I’d uttered, “I want to be alone,” someone would have pulled me into a hug and whispered, “No. I know you don’t want to be.”

Perhaps that would have solved half of the problems of the world…

8 thoughts on “Of What We Actually Mean”

  1. This is a complex issue for some. I say I want to be alone and I don’t want to be alone but, over the years, I have learned that it is everyone else that wants me to hug them and their issues with life, rather than give me a true and sincere hug.

    As the years passed, and emotional vampires had drained me of all the love I had in my at the time, I found that being alone is where I belong. To love myself, since no one else can truly love me…at least I haven’t found that person. I love my writing and my writing loves me. As I have written in my own posts, writing is my soulmate and, since the writing come from me, then I am my soulmate. Sounds lonely until I realized I never feel alone as long as I am writing or expressing myself in some way. Writing comes so easily to me that it is always there.

    I have a dear friend who allows me to write anything that is on my mind to her and she doesn’t judge me. She is the only one in my entire life who can hug me the way I need to be hugged.

    It’s all a matter of who we are individually and what it is that we truly need. Even when we find what we need, we know it won’t last forever. So I have learned to cherish such a person as the friend I have, who is the only one who knows how to truly hug me.

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  3. I relate to this. Because in my own way i push people away just to go to bed with my notebook and my pen to bleed my heart out into paper. I wish one person could stay behind but when they leave, i am ok with it. Because then i realize where i really stand in their eyes. Writing has been the only faithful partner.

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    1. Ah, yes! Indeed, over the years, the only thing that feels like family (apart from my family) is the loyal, old, drying pen and the rugged, torn diary that stay beside me in every storm.

      Nobody really wants to be alone, actually.

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  4. This article really hits close to home. It’s comforting reading other’s experience with depression and anxiety because it reminds me that I’m not alone in this.

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