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The true story of a single adult.

Indepence is a funny thing. It's kind of cool right? I am a single, 21 year old woman, living 12 hours from my family. My close friends range in distance from in in an hour drive to a 8 hour flight. I live in a 300 square foot apartment alone. I eat 98% of my meals by myself. I do my own grocery shopping. I go on walks by myself. I go to bed every night by myself. I wake up to my iPhone alarm and make myself get up, to go to school which I then follow up with going to my job. I've traveled to different states and to different countries, by myself. I am, by all means, an independent person. And, 99% of the time this makes me very happy.

But the other one percent? Well it can get bad. There are nights that I am so homesick I FaceTime with any familiar face that will talk to me. Or even worse, I make fried rice just like my mama and curl up into my bed and eat the whole pan while watching re-run survivor episodes. Sometimes, I sit in the car that use to be my mom's, just hoping that if I sit there long enough, I'll be able to catch a glimpse of how she smells or feel some sort of magical hug.

Other times I look at old pictures of my friends and drink my bottle of wine. I Facebook stalk ex-boyfriends or text that one guy who I know isn't a good idea. Or I re-download tinder for the 100th time and swipe swipe swipe. I regularly sleep with a heating pad in my bed because it gives the illusion of another person's body heat. I can't sleep without the tv on, and it's almost never silent in my apartment. I have nine pillows on my bed. I work with kids because they make you feel needed and loved. And I need that. And usually, all of those comforts are enough. But, that other one percent of the time. I am really really really lonely.

But I never ever talk about those nights. Because no one does. We are all too hopelessly afraid of shattering our beautiful perfect image of being an independent person...often we are afraid of shattering that image even for ourselves. See, we don't want anyone thinking that we could possibly need (or even really want them) in our lives. Because the second we do, our whole persona shatters. Everything we've worked for. All of the hard fought battles over which career was the most appropriate for us. Or the countless phone calls reminding your parents that you are an adult so they don't get to criticize your choice of meals. Or all of the people you broke up with because they were "taking away your freedom. Or how proud you felt moving into your first place. Or made dinner for yourself. Or remembered to change the toilet paper roll. Admitting you feel lonely feels like admitting all of those things meant nothing. Or were mistakes.

Admitting that we are lonely feels like admitting that we aren't independent. So we don't talk about it. We ignore it. And we are all left feeling even more isolated and alone than we felt before. But independence and loneliness are not antonyms. You can be both independent and lonely. Fulfilled and lonely. Happy and lonely. Independent and happily married. Independent and in love. They are not mutually exclusive ideas. Having a lonely night doesn't mean that you are permanently lonely. It doesn't make you weak and it certainly doesn't mean you can't handle yourself.

It means you are human. We are hard wired to need companionship and other people. It's how the human race survives. And if we would all just learn to talk about the nights we sit alone watching friends for the 1000 time, hating ourselves. Well, then maybe we could relate to each others experiences and then...well just maybe we wouldn't feel so lonely so often.




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