Learning to Be Alone

To be read slowly, not understood all at once

Here I am, once again, wandering alone with no one to care. It’s just me, myself, and I. I try not to complain, but I can’t deny it—I struggle with being alone. But is “alone” even the right word for me? Or am I just lonely? Did I choose this, or did it happen to me? I don’t know.

I wonder if there is someone meant for me, or if I am simply meant to be like this for the rest of my life. The truth is, I don’t have an answer. It has been a while since I have felt any form of affection toward someone. Maybe I forgot what it feels like to be held. Maybe I forgot what it feels like to be loved. Maybe I even forgot how to love.

I feel nothing. I feel empty.

I have been broken so many times that my heart feels like stone. At some point, I made a promise to myself that I would never let anyone break me again. But I can’t help but wonder—has that protection turned into something else? Has it made me bitter? Has it changed me into someone I no longer recognize?

Still, I tell myself that I am only protecting what is left of me. And despite everything, I know there is still something there. A spark. A quiet belief that love still exists, even if it feels distant. Even if it feels unreachable.

Maybe I just need to find it again.
Maybe I just need to learn how to love again.

But right now, I am still sore. Still recovering.

Maybe it will take time to rebuild myself. I don’t even know how to begin. I feel lost, searching for the strength to rise again.

And yet, maybe this loneliness is not entirely bad. Maybe I am alone because I need to be. Maybe this is where I am meant to heal, to face what I have been avoiding, to understand what remains of me after everything that has happened.

I know this much—I need to recover from my past wounds.

I am human.
I am vulnerable.

But I am not indestructible.