This Is What Loneliness Feels Like
An explorative quest to unmask loneliness— and find deeper connections in the process.
In the lonely wintertime, I often sit at my desk to observe the houses across from me. Not to spy, be nosy, or play Big Brother. I simply want to see signs of light, signs of life.
When dusk sets in, the spectacle begins.
Lights are switched on, and TVs start flickering. I start feeling a glimmer of connection. As more and more lights elucidate, it can seem as if the apartment lights merge into one beaming glow—like thousands of pixels resolving into a sharp image. I catch glimpses of people walking through their rooms, someone swinging a pan, someone setting the table. The scene feels so wholesome. A huge dinner party is about to happen, and they’re just waiting for the last guests to trickle in. I want to join. I’m ready.
But then, unexpectedly, the feeling is gone.
I realize it wasn’t real. A naïve fantasy. I snap back to my desk, staring at artificial light rays. Artificial entertainment. Artificial connections. It’s agonizing. The end of loneliness is almost there, right in front of my eyes. I can grasp it, but also… I can’t. There’s a barrier between me and others.
