Trying to be Okay with Alone

I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be alone. Not just physically, but emotionally. I do have people in my life—friends, acquaintances—but they all have their person. Someone they turn to when things get hard or when something wonderful happens. I don’t have that. When I’m crying, there’s no one to sit with me. When I feel like celebrating, there’s no one to share the moment with. When I’m so numb I can’t even cry, I’m just… alone.

Everyone sees the happy version of me. The one who shows up, smiles, makes jokes. That’s the version I’ve learned to present. But underneath it, I’m carrying so much that no one really sees.

I have people for the good times—the planned events, the dinners, the birthdays. But I don’t have someone who would drop everything just because I need company. I don’t have someone who would say, “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Sometimes I wonder if he was right. Maybe I won’t find someone better. Maybe leaving the only person who stayed means I chose this path. Maybe this is what I get. A life of solitude.

So now I’m trying to figure out how to accept this. How do I keep going without needing anyone? Without hoping for someone to show up? How do I learn to be okay with this version of my life—one where I’m always the strong one, always the solo act?

I don’t even know if there is an answer to that.