Her Solitude

"It was a foggy December night. Cold and dark. She sat in the patio chair of her apartment. The street lights were hazy. A mild breeze was making soothing sounds in the slightly chilly weather. She was wearing her puffy sweater, ear muffs, and cozy socks with warm hot chocolate in her hands. Her loose hair bounced near her face. She was busy admiring the weather when he touched..."

She closed the book in her hand with a gentle sigh, setting her reading glasses down on the small table beside her. Her mind wandered as she looked up from the pages, drawing comparisons between the scene she had just read and her surroundings. Sitting on her patio, she was enveloped in the cool embrace of a late night, in her soft pajamas and with her hair piled messily into a bun with a few strands dancing near her lips.

The air was crisp and dry, and an eerie silence that gave her chill hung around her, punctuated only by the muffled sounds of the night beyond the thick fog that wrapped around everything like a ghostly shroud. That silence amplified the chaos in her mind, making each thought painfully clear and saddening her to the core.

In the book she was reading, the female protagonist had the love of her life beside her, brightening up her world on that dark, ghostly night. Looking at her side, she could only find an empty chair and echo of her emptyness; that missing piece of her life's puzzle, stark against the shadowy patio.

A wave of loneliness washed over her, bringing a swirl of pensive thoughts. What was it truly like to be loved by someone who adored her? What was it to be cherished by him? What is it to be someone's crush? What was it to be someone's priority? She couldn't resist these thoughts.

A sudden realization struck her like cold water; she had remained untouched throughout her life—a blank canvas. It was a moment of reflection for her; she had just realized the depth of her experiences and the heavy weight of her yearning for what it meant to long for connection and understanding. She acknowledged that she was trying hard to accept that no one had ever touched her heart and soul with love, adoration, and affection. It was as if she existed in the periphery, always unnoticed, overlooked, and neglected.

She always saw herself as a girl in every book—a character whose depths remained unexplored, existing only as a supporting character. She had accomplished much and was striving for even more. However, beneath those achievements lay a cavern of unworthiness, a feeling that no one ever truly appreciated her intellect or presence.

The memories of gathering with friends and family came flooding back to her. She was lost in the moments when a bunch of people surrounded her; laughter echoed around her, stories were shared, and memories were created. She sat at the fringe, feeling like a spectator in a world vibrant with connection, never belonging there, like an imposter.

At 30 years old, her longing for love and acceptance had morphed into something far less innocent than the silly dreams of her youth. She recalled the youthful fantasies of being someone's beloved, a reason for butterflies, attention now buried deep within her heart—a fragile, forgotten treasure. The romance she once imagined had faded like the haze around her, and the excitement that once bloomed in her heart was now a resigned acceptance.

Nights that once felt overwhelmingly lonely had transformed. Now, She has learned to embrace her solitude and the silence around her. That eerie silence has become a comforting companion; it listens to her, acknowledges her, and she can hear every thought of her mind in that silence. This silence has taught her life. She now understood that love might never find her as she thought it should.

The solitude has become her retreat. She does not think her life is incomplete; the missing parts are no longer void. They are no longer a source of her sorrow; they are woven into the masterpiece of who she has become and/or is becoming.

She remained untouched in the world full of roses and love, neither a cherished bloom nor a worshipped love. Yet, she had found an unexpected peace within herself—no longer yearning for a love that seemed destined to elude her nor feeling incomplete in the quiet of her own company. Acceptance had blossomed in the cracks of her heart, and she found all its beauty in her solitude.