The Other Side of Solitude
I have been writing for years. Blogs, stories, history. Across all categories. Fiction, personal essays, self-help, life advice, financial newsletters. I have done it all. And it gets to me sometimes. The whole charade of producing content. Thinking through everything. I like thinking. It comes naturally to me. But there is always a cost.
The cost is solitude. It sounds novel. Until you see the other side of it. Until you calculate what it actually demands. When you prefer solitude, you reject socialisation. You reject people. Most of them, if not all. You limit interaction. Because most of the time you are in your head. Thinking. Planning. Outlining. You see things and want to describe them. You feel something and want to write about it.
This pulls you away from most interactions. I like people. I want connections. But I don't have the bandwidth or the will to navigate shallow ones. When you can see the world, decode it, you develop a quiet disgust toward it. You are fascinated by humanity and its achievements. But you don't appreciate its presence up close. From that distance, most people reveal themselves as shallow, and I have little tolerance for shallowness.
So I withdrew from most of them. I focused only on connections that add something real to my life. I am not looking for romance, so I see women differently now. I have come to realise that most of them are uninteresting. They have nothing to contribute. And most men are equally disappointing. Hollow bravado dressed in clever words. No genuine masculine substance. All they chase is female validation. Women sense this, I think, because they too seem repulsed by it.
I have grown quieter over the years. Far quieter than I used to be. My mind runs constantly. I sometimes cannot sleep. My wife blames caffeine. But I know it is my brain. I cannot sleep because of the thoughts, and yet I have no desire to speak to people. It requires too much effort. I am not depressed. I would not accept even a clinical diagnosis of it. I have told myself for years that I cannot afford to be depressed. I have a family to take care of.
So I can write anything, anytime, on any topic. But I have paid for that ability. Not in money. In distance. I understand now that you need connections to move forward in life. I am never rude to people. Always kind. Always courteous. Always civil. But I don't particularly like them. So I never open up. They don't get to see what is actually in my heart. They think they know me and love what they see. But their affection is built on a version of me I deliberately constructed. I made certain of that.
For whatever remains of my life, I will stay quiet. I doubt I will ever change. I have no inclination to. No motivation. No craving for company. It is lonely at times. But it is manageable, considering the alternatives. So for anyone who romanticises solitude, keep this in mind. Everything comes at a price.
Solitude is useful if you want to finish something. Some people grow addicted to it. It feels rewarding at the start. But remember, everything carries a cost. Do not wish for something you are not prepared to live with.