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Being alone is easier. You’re better off alone.

This is not a point to ponder — it’s a statement. It isn’t something that needs to be explained or justified. It’s a solid, undeniable given; de facto et de jure. It is easier to be alone. And you’ve made it your philosophy, your very own creed.

Living only for yourself, day by day, hour by hour, presence by fleeting presence. You’re ruler of your very own kingdom — one governed by your laws, your rules, your whims and your desires. You own it; your power of self control echoing in every stride you take. You come and go as you please, wherever you please, exit sign in sight even as you enter. You do what you want, when you want, with whomever you want. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Temporary works. A measured hit of your very own drug of choice; just enough get you high without the danger of getting addicted. Besides, the ephemeral and fleeting, no ties and no future, has its own seductiveness. The allure of something you know has an expiration date, something that by definition will be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. A collection of unique moments, all arranged perfectly and neatly on the shelf across from your bed. Trophies of those who have passed and have touched but didn’t stay — be that of their own volition or yours. Players in a game for a select few; not something for the faint of heart.

Yes, you’re the strong one; a sturdy rock in a world full of relationships crumbling and crushing those who built them. Nothing can make you budge, nothing can bring you to your knees because you’ve drawn the line –a bright red flashing neon line– in your mind. You dance along it, even on it, but you never cross it. Because it’s safe on your side of the arena. There is no one coming for you, at you or to you. And things are so much simpler.

You don’t have to work for anything, no one expects anything from you, no one’s counting on you and no one’s waiting for you when you get home, whatever time it is you eventually find your way home. No one’s disappointed. But you.

Go ahead and try to convince the world that you’re perfectly content, completely satisfied, in your little ditch. Try to convince yourself. Dress it up, plaster that “It’s my choice” label on it and stand proud by your decision. Defend it tooth and nail. Not so much because anyone cares. They don’t; and you know it. But you have to keep up that pretense, if only to keep that little voice in your head and that little flutter in your chest quiet.

Then one day, it hits you, out of nowhere, like a wrecking ball. Your solid philosophy begins to falter, when you look at them, and something deep inside begins to stir. There is another person in your thoughts. You find yourself smiling and anticipating someone and not something. Your cynical, cocky responses are lost to you. You stutter and search for words, grappling for an explanation for this inconcievable confusion. Do you actually want more time with one person?

Panicking, you put out whatever tiny flame is starting to grow and warm you. And none’s the wiser. It didn’t get a chance to grow into a fire and this person fanning it never got a chance to know their effect on you.

You? Weak enough to fall into emotion? Vulnerable, craving someone’s presence, someone’s words, someone’s touch? No. Not happening. Denial is a bitch, but you’ve learnt to handle her.

Naturally you get infuriated with anyone who tells you otherwise. Who the hell do they think they are, to assume they know, better than me, what’s best for me? Off with their heads! Maybe that way they’ll shut up and not stir doubt in you. Because their words, the disbelieving looks, as you deny feeling anything, are disturbing your resolve. And that shit doesn’t need to be bothered. You have chosen a subjective truth; one that clicks into your philosophy like a missing puzzle piece. The real truth is perfectly fine the way it is — in a comatose sleep.

You’ve all but forgotten that one universal axiom no subjective truth can cancel: We weren’t born to be alone. We weren’t put on this earth to exist by ourselves with no one at our side. We weren’t created void of emotion so that we don’t ever have to feel anything. And everybody needs someone to call their own.

We do have primitive instincts, though –you counter those who dare to doubt– ones that keep us away from danger, and the intellectual capacity to steer clear of certain situations that can take us out of our comfort zones and send us spiraling into the unknown.

That unknown that comes with falling in love.

Yet you’re up there hanging off the battlements of those walls you’ve built around your emotions, watching attentively, studying the one that’s still down there among all the casualties, wondering why the hell they stayed and what they have in their mind. Those impenetrable walls weren’t built in a day; they took what seemed like eons worth of nights of sleepless torment to build. It took pain, mistakes and doubt to forge those stones. It took tears and betrayal to weld them together. They see the carnage around the walls and they ignore it. They aren’t blind, nor are they oblivious. Yet they’re still right there looking for a way in. What’s their end game?

There is an answer to that. Their end game is you — and only you.

Because there is something they know that you don’t. They have the one strength you don’t possess — and that is your weakness. They know the answer: Real strength and happiness lies in love and the power of a simple addition.

There is power in numbers; and two will always be stronger than one. There isn’t a person out there who truly wants to be alone. That too is a indisputable fact. Everyone wants to be loved. Everyone wants someone who makes their life happier and a little bit easier. Someone by their side, in their corner, only for them.

Even you.

Author: Nikoletta Vasilopoulou

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