It doesn't matter that every day I am surrounded by people. Right now I am writing so furiously that my elbow is bumping the wrist of the lady next to me. It doesn't matter that I have things in common with people here. In fact, this poor lady is attempting to enjoy the same drink that I've let turn cold beside me on the window sill. It doesn't matter that I've made enough acquaintances that I'm never without someone to say hello by name.
What matters right here, right now, is that these people are not my friends. They are not the people I know inside and out. They are not the people I stay up to talk to all night. They are not the people I can make pancakes for to persuade them to wake up and watch cartoons with me. They are not the people who made me embrace nerdy card games. And I don't want to let them become that to me, because in 7 months I'll have to leave them behind.
And while I'm forced to be here, my friends are all back home, together. Still staying up and eating pancakes and playing cards. And it only gets harder. Because back home, alongside my friends are other people who are doing these things with them who don't know them or love them like I do. And because back home, my friends have too much on their plates to be able to hold contact. And because back home, my world is going on perfectly happily without me.
Tout et depuis toujours, nous rêvons le même rêve. Et ce que nous pensons être la vie – et que nous considérons comme étant « notre vie » -- n'est rien de plus qu'un roman écrit par personne. Mais si personne n'est l'auteur de notre rêve commun, pourquoi le rêvons-nous? Et, surtout, pourquoi le rêvons-nous ensemble?-- Edgar Kosma
Yet, there is a collectivity to my loneliness, as paradoxical as that sounds. Because at times, this lady gets lonely, even with the comfort of her Grande Latte Caramel Noisette. (Ok pause: This drink is seriously really good). And at times, people with my friends are feeling lonely.
Sometimes someone steps back and sees how short life is and realizes that they don't know themselves and that they don't know anyone else or anything at all, and they feel lonely.
So yeah, loneliness sucks. And no, it doesn't get better. It doesn't get easier. But at the very least, it gets accepted.