I asked myself a question the other day –why do I spend time with my friends, even though I enjoy spending time alone much more. Wouldn’t it be easier just to stay at home, plunging into my favorite novels, drinking coffee, and scribbling things from time to time?
Communicating with others is meant to be a pleasurable activity, but the truth is, it’s not always that good. In this matter, it’s pretty far-fetched to believe that social gathering is a key from depression and loneliness and accept this premise as an unshakable truth. By and large, people are mind-numbing and noisy. Let’s take, for example, my friends. They’re always spilling beer on my jeans and devouring all the food from my fridge, nonchalantly asking, “There’s nothing to eat, so maybe we ‘ll order a pizza?” They come up with business ideas and then abandon me at the first sign of trouble. They blurt out dubious comments about everything and everyone, including about me.
Not that I don’t like humanity in general. By and large, people might be friendly and cute, but in the same way, they might be quite the opposite. Sometimes, I find that in reality my friends much less calm, well-behaved, and right-minded individuals in reality than in my thoughts. Sometimes I wonder what’s the whole point of spending time with someone who half of the time brings only chaos and inconveniences to your life. Feeling disturbed by this sudden dilemma, I came up with a list of reasons in favor of being with others versus being alone.
People make me laugh. Thanks to the people, I get a healthy dose of odd jokes every other day. My circle of friends constantly comes up with surprising comments, awkward questions, and whatever else they might think of. With some creativity, they manage to drive me insane in no time. But, I have to admit, just in the same way, they’re also able to make me feel better. If I’m down, they’ll try to make me smile, and if that doesn’t work, they’ll at least give me a piece of advice or help me put things in perspective.
On the flip side, in the solitude of my apartment, nobody disturbs my peace. In addition, books that I read too make me smile. More than that, books teach me things about history and literature, psychology and philosophy on an everyday basis. That would be foolish to expect that kind of competence in all these fields from people around me. If each of us were that kind of expert, we wouldn’t need books in the first place.
I may open up to people. It’s not that I’m coming up to every other person on the street, determined to trust them with my thoughts and worries. Nevertheless, my pals are ready to listen to my complaints at any time. That doesn’t really matter whether it’s a big deal or not. They are willing to talk about a broken nail, overload at work, my boyfriend’s good traits, and new cooking recipes with equal enthusiasm.
By contrast, I can’t trust my sorrows and doubts to the solitude of my room or books. Books in themselves aren’t wired for that kind of connection; it’s just stacks of paper bonded with glue. Just in the same way, books can’t give me specific advice regarding my present circumstances; the only thing that I can expect is general knowledge or an abstract concept. It doesn’t make sense to ask a book whether I should change careers, cut down on salt and sugar, or break up with my partner. People, on the other hand, can come up with specific answers to any kind of question. What makes people even better than books is that they can give much-needed support, and they know how to calm me down.
People make me stronger. Life is not always full of rainbows and unicorns, and I’ve had my fair share of inevitable ebbs and flows. Still, some people have helped me many times to overcome obstacles and to get through any barrier in my way. They made me forget about the very concept of barriers. Not only that, but they’ve helped me stay motivated and run after my dreams, whether it was a new career venture or adventurous travel. Because of the people, I’ve learned to face challenges that came my way, stick to my principles and carry on even while at a complete loss for inspiration and energy.
On the other hand, solitude and books have also taught me to be strong and determined, but in another kind of way. It would seem that I just devoured volumes of words, but, looking back, I can see how authors whom I read changed my perception of life, making me slightly different after each book. Literature honed my curiosity for the world around me and shaped my values and beliefs, bit by bit transforming who I am and who I’m supposed to be. Solitude, in the same way, taught me what it means to be the hero of my own story and face any kind of inner insecurities and fears. Being alone is not as easy as it might seem at first glance, and by doing so, I've made sense of solitude over time.
Frankly speaking, I like to be alone. Having spent time with myself for years, I’ve developed an ability to savor solitude, enjoying peaceful and undisturbed tranquillity. At the very heart of my passion for solitude is a compelling concept of total freedom that unleashes my inner self and sends me to the world of dreams, thoughts, and words in no time. Enchanted by that secluded place, I might spend years there, dreaming and watching unless someone comes along and drags me out. But either way, there’s always someone willing to come and disturb my peace as I'm, to skim over my books, laugh, and joke. From what I’ve found, there’s no simple answer to the question of what’s better, solitude or connection. At the end of the day, we need room for both in our lives, because, without understanding who we are, we won’t find meaning in either.
