I wrote a story once about how loneliness isn’t something to be afraid of. At the age of nine, I was already accepting the fact of life that feelings of being alone will come and go, and that to be afraid of it is to be afraid of Hell — an irrational feeling, which has no place in a happy life. Real love is not a given, it’s irregular and hard to find.

One who is lonely usually feels sad, isolated, empty, and if always waiting for something to happen. Looking at those “symptoms” it seems that loneliness really has no place in happiness. Quick remedies come to mind — to fight the sadness and the emptiness, try finding a hobby with much fulfillment; make sure you have at least two best friends to move away from isolation; and stop waiting, but take control of your own life.

Yet, those are all easy things to say, but when you’re already down it might be hard to see the real joy of a hobby or the making of new friends. And even if all those things are accomplished, there still is no significant other in your life so the deep loneliness stays. That might be, I say, but perhaps the problem is not having no lover — perhaps it’s a problem that lies within.

Maya Angelou wrote in her poem “Alone,”

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don’t believe I’m wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.¹

I have a general dislike of all poetry, and my dislike of this one is just the same — but it illustrates the common theme of how people think about lonesomeness. “Nobody can make it alone,” that’s what most people believe. And sure, there is some truth in that, but people are forgetting the most important person in their lives when they’re making those kind of statements. From beginning to end, from birth to death, the most important person in anyones live is the same — and no, it’s not “God.” Can we continue without religion for once?

It’s yourself. Each hour of the day, of each week, of each month, of each year — you’re with yourself, living, sharing and loving. If you feel that lonely without a significant other, perhaps you don’t love yourself enough? I see it in every episode of “Ally McBeal.”² She’s so lonely, so unhappy, so crazy — but perhaps if she would really look closely at her life, she would realize she already has so much to love and cherish. But if you don’t truly love yourself, you’ll never notice it. And to truly love yourself is hard.

I’m writing this all down as if I’m that in love with myself, but I ain’t. I do love myself, but not fully, not truly. There are too many aspects of my life that annoy me to hell, too many bad personal feelings. If I should ever make a list of improvements, it would be long. And yet, I don’t feel lonely, because I know that I have always had my own companionship, and I will until the very end. The only person who will fully understand me, is me. Does this mean I never want to be with someone, or that I never feel moments of loneliness — which is different from just loneliness — in my life?

Of course not. Yesterday, I dreamt that I was in a pure relationship with one of the many friends I’ve lost contact with over the years. I’ve always had a small crush on him, and envied him for his looks and jolly personality. There was a moment in the dream — one that was separate from all the shooting, the sudden soccer match with James McAvoy, the schoolraid and that one moment were the FBI took me prisoner — where we were standing in a line (I think we were going to the theatre, or something), and he looked at me and said, “Do you really love me? Because we haven’t even kissed.” In that moment, I suddenly jumped him and we kissed for the longest of moments. Eventually the kiss was interrupted and I replied, “That enough of an answer?”

Besides mirroring my intimacy issues, it was also a moment of pure joy. (Of course, how can it else be with a schoolraid following it? I don’t even know how the location transitioned from theatre to school.) When it comes to mind, I feel a little bit lonely that I have nobody (yet) in real life to kiss for the longest of moments. But when the memory dies down, I don’t continue on feeling lonely. I move on with my life. A life in which I already have a temporary significant other for the time being: myself.