There’s a difference, you know, between the feelings of loneliness and of being alone. Of emptiness and fullness. Of having a racing heart and skipping a beat. Of wanting to share and sharing yourself. Of hoping and doing.
Loneliness is feeling a void, a moment when you reach out to catch it, but it slips between your fingers. When you missed it, you were close enough to continue to miss it. When you could almost hold it.
Being alone is knowing you are enough on your own. Feeling as though conquering the world alone is possible. You are enough; you are happy to be with yourself. You can hold yourself.
Loneliness is being afraid to go to dinner alone, knowing that people can see an inevitable empty seat across from you. It’s letting the fear of judgment keep you from what could be, from opportunities for adventures you want.
Being alone is being okay with taking yourself on a date, testing out the restaurant nearby. It takes courage, but you know you are worth it, and you know you love your time with yourself and your thoughts. You aren’t afraid to dress up for yourself. You aren’t afraid of the stares, whispers, judgment.
Loneliness is feeling the empty space on your couch on a night alone. It’s reaching out, feeling a tangible void. Feeling cold, knowing if someone else was there, they could warm you.
Being alone is stretching out on that cough, taking advantage of all the space. It’s resting your bones. It’s freedom. It’s pulling your fuzzy lavender scented blanket over your body.
It’s okay to feel both. It’s okay to feel a void and remember you are okay on your own. It’s okay to be nervous about going out alone, but then brave enough to actually go out and do it. It’s okay to be aware of a space next to you before stretching out.
Own what you are feeling—savor it and experience it.