Years of solitude taught me that solitude is bliss. I didn’t even realize that I was alone because loneliness was my way of life. I was happy with myself. Thinking deep and observing the World. I made friends with the swaying leaves. I was very happy as there was no one to hurt me. Expectations were meager; hence, heart break was alien. There was a smile not only in my face, but in my eyes too. My heart was filled with melodies as I was untouched by the maladies.
People criticized me. My silence remained as a topic of debate. Some thought that I was showing too much of attitude. Some thought I would go through a deadly state of depression. Everyone failed to understand that I was celebrating life. I lived in a World of my own. There were dreams… Poems and loads of happiness! I used to write vigorously and read extensively. Secrets were shared with my daily journal. Important events and news were updated only to my parents. Life was simple. My World was small and completely free from worries.
Sometimes, pearls of tears used to roll down my cheeks. But, I would silently sit in a corner and pen down my thoughts. I used to believe that those pearls are the gifts of God for enduring solitude and for considering it as endearing.
But, as I grew older, my social circles widened. I started meeting more people and started mingling with them. New people came into my life and so did expectations. Also, emotional attachment! Each one was special. Some were friends… Some filled the gap of a sibling… If one was everything, someone else was charming. Some always understood me… while some cared for me… Some criticized me… Some expected a lot from me. I wanted to keep everyone happy. I started adapting to each one of them. I customized myself to make them happy; to see them happy. More than love and care for them, it was the fear of being rendered alone that prevailed over. I started changing instead of evolving.
Heartbreaks followed… Tears became unavoidable… Once blissful solitude seemed like a curse. I started missing him and I wished she was beside me. I wondered why he walked away from me and why she was always so self-obsessed. I didn’t understand why he never understood me and why she always wanted me to move on.
I started thinking a lot. I spent most of the time thinking what other people thought of me, rather than what I thought about myself. The thoughts of others started to dominate and I lost interest in myself.
And today, I am missing those days when life was less complicated. During those days, people were not around me. Yet, happiness was around me. Today, there are umpteen numbers of people around me, but I am not feeling happy. I am feeling alone. I desperately wish that I go back to my little diary instead of those tiny little hearts that failed to understand me. I wish that I go out and watch the leaves dance with glee than make a call to someone who doesn’t understand me. I wish that I could close my eyes and think about something that would make me happy instead of messaging someone.
I wish that sooner I realize that solitude was indeed blissful and not the life that I am leading now. After all, I am fed up faking. And my interest to convince and cajole people is fading!