Not all who are alone are lonely. There is a distinction between the two that is fundamental despite being misunderstood and misconstrued. Some of us prefer to be alone and acting on that preference makes us the opposite of lonely. Those dependent on constant companionship will assume those who spend much of their time alone must be lonely, but those of us who prefer to be alone do not have the same craving, and take companionship only on our own terms and in small doses.
I prefer to be alone.
I observe and process everything around me, constantly. I have thoughts layered on top of thoughts on top of other thoughts, and they flow at a rapid pace. If there are too many people around, it is over-stimulating and exhausting. I can’t focus on anyone, and I withdraw. I hang on the edges, observing. If you want to talk to me, you’ll have to come to me, where I am. But I’m perfectly at ease if you don’t.
I abhor small talk, and I’m terrible at asking people questions or getting to know them in a conventional way. I could have a two-hour long conversation about philosophy with you if you happen to be sitting next to me at a bar, and as a result of that conversation I may know more about you and the way you think than most people who’ve known you for years. But I won’t know your name or how many siblings you have or where you grew up or where you work. Those things just aren’t as important to me. I don’t need to catalogue superficial details about someone. These sorts of bits of information, to me, are best learned by coming up naturally and organically during a conversation about something meaningful, or through telling a story — and I do like to tell stories.
Alone is a state of being; lonely is a state of mind. To be lonely is to admit there is something you find lacking in being alone, that you want someone else there to share whatever you’re presently doing. As most of my favorite activities are solitary ones, they are seldom if ever enhanced by the presence of another. In fact, it is most often the case that another person detrimentally impacts my ability to do something I want to do.
Our society views a person alone as someone to be pitied. You may see me at a café or a bar or a movie alone and feel sorry for me. You may think I have no friends. You may think that no one likes me. But if you talked to me you’d know the truth: you’d know that I went to that café by myself because I wanted to read. That I went to the bar alone because I wanted to people-watch and write. That I went to that movie alone because I’m a selfish bitch and I wanted to watch a film without someone trying to talk to me and I don’t like to share the popcorn.
I prefer to be alone. And being comfortable with that preference has made me one of the least lonely people I’ve ever known.
