I think there’s a clear distinction between loneliness and solitude.

Lately, when I’m feeling lonely, I look inwards. I entertain myself with thought and soon I find a companion in myself.

I use these opportunities to learn more about myself and, quickly, times of loneliness become times of solitude.

I’m at peace when I’m alone.

Our societal norms would have you believe solitude is sign of weakened social ability. That might be so, but I’m not buying it. When I walk by people – families, couples, groups of people my age – I see the looks of confusion. Looks suggesting that, perhaps, my desire to seek solitude is weird.

As I write this, I realize it’s probably not their thought at all.

Perhaps, I believe that myself.

In solitude, I feel at peace. Yet, a part of me feels like this is wrong.

Like I shouldn’t be able to feel at ease on my own. I feel as though, on those rare occasions where I’ve acquired peace, I learn that it isn’t anything tangible that fulfills me.

I learn that no pleasure, vice, material, thing, action, person, or idea can bring me peace. It’s the state of mind; the act of being present is the transcendental experience.

I think this realization occurs in solitude and it’s hard to come to terms with. So, I label that experience as weird.

The truth is: it’s empowering.

To learn that there is no chase that’s fulfilling. There’s nothing out there that can cure me, or make me complete.

No level of accomplishment, no level of success or output will satisfy an unsatisfied soul.

That’s within me and it is solitude that brings it out.

I suppose it’s easy to be in solitude when this is the world I walk with.