An hour past midnight on a mid-December Friday night, friends just left to go outside through the snow to slumber and that last image of the night gets posted on social media. Such an amazing night with friends and now settling down into bed, but the mood sets in for melancholic songs and yearning for human connection. Alone in thoughts and the air is fill with a hint of loneliness. I begin to reflect: I just cut out someone I am supposed to be close to and has been there my whole life, lost two people who have been in my life for two long years, drifted away from a friend because of distance, messed up my relationship with someone who makes me stay on the tip of my toes, and am losing such a great person who talks to me on the daily basis.
The more I think, the more I realize how many people I lose every year. Connections build and build, then they efface away from my life as if they were never there in the first place. I still remember all of them dearly, even if all they become are distant memories. The tone of their voices, their faces, become blurs and wonders and something inside me imagines coming home to an empty apartment. When will I become comfortable with my own loneliness? Perhaps, some people are just prone to loneliness and melancholy than others.
These are the thoughts I find myself having more and more as the months add up since the last time I saw the one I spent two memorable years with, it’s for the best. I see myself growing more independent, smiling more, surrounded by more people, improving myself, yet I can’t help but yearn for more.
On my 21st spring, I will in Tokyo. It’s a dream I’ve always had and for a brief moment, we were going to experience that dream together. Now I am going alone. Scared, but something about this feels right. Maybe, this feeling of loneliness will grow. Maybe, one day I will grow comfortable with loneliness. Perhaps, it is the human condition to feel lonely. Perhaps, the essence of living is connect and yearn for more… It’s those thoughts that makes growing lonely a little less scary. Yet something inside me, hopes, even just a little, that maybe one day, I get to feel the first snowfall of the year with someone again. Close in proximity, we gaze into the sky together.