I think loneliness is a powerful thing.
Throughout my life, I've been fortunate enough to be fulfilled (mostly), although not always happy. In our flat back in hong kong, as the night sets in, I could always feel a visceral sense of singularity. The adults are out in the living room, and me in my crib — the room I know every inch of — wondering about the big lights outside across the harbour. An autumnal breeze stumbles through my window, but the smell of freedom and the night air stirs a wound, a daily awakening. Then the slight touch of melancholy sets in. I'm afraid of the night, not because of its darkness, but because of its quiet scent of solitude.
The air of hong kong is rich and impregnated with memories. There is something so distinctively thick about life there. The streets eroded through both fame and the mundane, the bauhinia flowers that fall out of season, the gardens within the city that guard childhood memories of lightsaber duels and nerf ambushes.
I was always very good at inventing worlds for myself. This road is the Styx, and I am the ferryman. This balcony, a cliff for the many tiny warriors we can't see. And on my hands, the design for a new tent blending origami with engineering.
Within all this richness, the loneliness is faint, sometimes even pleasurable, accompanying me past the high-rises and overpasses as I run along the harbour. These are moments when you can be completely in sync with your muscles and the slightest tingling on your fingertips. I enjoy loneliness then.
Quite recently, this trend has changed. I've found myself usually happy, but not often fulfilled. that's to do with the end of semester, I think; but I also think loneliness (or its lack thereof) has a role to play.
I used to possess silence. I could sit by myself, look inwards, and be met with a rich world that gave me happiness. When I try to do that now, I feel fear and incomprehension. Not entirely empty, of course, but something has changed. It feels like I am less willing to be completely alone. On a campus where I'm always doing something with someone, I miss those abundant moments of quiet I've enjoyed growing up.
At the right dosage, loneliness is a cure.