the real reason why people are alone

I think the most hurtful thing about being alone is the inevitable, mortifying desire to be known, to exist in a way that says you have been seen and chosen. I have tried to understand why loneliness comes for us in times when we’re completely vulnerable, shown our shortcomings and in exasperation with the fact that truly being seen, truly being noticed and wanted, comes with a feeling of acceptance – that the people around you, people you look up to, finally acknowledge you – the fact that you exist, the fact that all you ever wanted was to be noticed. And I couldn’t be any more confused and bitter about it.

I baffle at the realization that most of the time, I never truly wanted a friend, just someone to finally see me. That if I were seen first, it’d mean that I was being noticed, which would automatically mean that I had a friend, but it doesn’t work that way. It comes with a bit of self-mirroring; I think a certain kind of knowing would quench, but even if I were to have all the numbers, all the fame, and people to hang around with, loneliness would only come to me most when I am surrounded by them. Because loneliness isn’t something to be felt alone – it is seen, it is observed, and noticed. Like an energy that announces a person before they walk into the room.

We say we prefer being alone. That we are introverted. That we don’t need people. But most times, that isn’t true. It’s not that we choose loneliness—it’s that we hesitate at the edge of connection.

A friend of mine says he’s alone because he hasn’t found the right person. But the truth is simple: he hasn’t allowed himself to be vulnerable enough to be found. And most times, we equate that fear to choosing to be lonely when the willpower to actually do so is being compromised. It’s not about the fear of putting yourself in the position to be noticed, but the fear of putting yourself in the position to be rejected.

“Everything you want is on the other side of fear.” – Hauwa Lawal.

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I think what I fear most about loneliness is being rejected when I desperately want to be reached out for. That the main reason isn’t that I chose to, seeing other people in pairs, threes, fours, ever envious of them, but with the realization that my loneliness has a pattern. First, the feeling of wanting to put myself out there, being fed up with loneliness. Second, visualizing talking to them. Third, being comfortable enough that I over-speak. Fourth, the awkwardness that creeps in. Fifth, the silence after being rejected. And suddenly, I am all alone in a room filled with silhouettes, shrinking to the size of my confidence.

This goes on for all the times I’ve ever dared to put myself in a position of wanting to be seen. That I think I am utterly unable to be associated with, and with the crippling fear of doubts that resides long after I’d noticed the pattern – that I cannot be sociable enough to drive away loneliness, because I fear I have become it. Nobody chooses to be lonely; they go through an unseen pattern of fear, doubt, crisis, and then conclude that they’re better off without people, while it stings at the back of their heads, faced with the truth of their failures and inability to be noticed.

Such people want to be noticed. They want to have people who finally see them for who they are, that the slightest chance they get to something real, they express without thinking, only to feel a sword stab them when they remember losing friends is more devastating than gaining them, so they sit with the emotion long enough to either shut down or to open up again. And to be sincere, I have done more shutting down than opening up, only because I was afraid to open up, not that it didn’t kill me, walking home alone after school, or sitting in a cafeteria without someone to talk to.

People are lonely most of the time because the feeling of being rejected hurts more than wanting to be noticed. And sometimes, such embarrassment doesn’t go away easily.

I have never been told I was a wallflower, or that I was a tad different at social gatherings, even though I’d always wanted to be left alone. Nothing that went beyond being called introverted because I was a homebody. I present myself well, I sit up straight, I don’t feel an iota of suppression in public spaces, but then again, why do I want to be noticed? Maybe it is that sometimes, loneliness isn’t always about not having people around you, but it’s about realizing that you have made it your entire identity, that choosing to step away from it feels strange. Like wanting to be noticed means you’re asking for too much because you’ve existed in loneliness for too long.

Being lonely is devastating – but only because we’ve agreed that it is.