I always thought that loneliness was this kind of sickness that I needed to destroy in order for me to be happy. But then I felt that without this loneliness, I wouldn’t be able to understand what makes me feel better when I am alone. So then I decided to be alone. I said good morning to myself alone. I ate alone. I read books about how people who were alone managed to find redemption by being alone. I showered alone, went for a skate on the afternoons alone, and sang sweet songs to my sadness when I realized that being gentle with myself when I am alone is enough to make a garden of self-worth in my mind regardless of being alone until one day I felt like I wasn’t despite still being alone. I saw music in the way the birds sang on top of glowing streetlamps when the darkness came, and I heard poetry in the way I saw the countless people in the streets walking alone, stargazing alone, and simply taking in the night air alone, and so I wasn’t really alone. I am a part of this great club where poets are born, nature lovers are born, flower childs are born, and the funny thing is we’ll be dying in the good company of ourselves alone. Loneliness is a sign that we’re in need of a search for something that will make us happily whole. “