I retreat in quiet spaces for sense of freedom and creativity. I believe in its stillness, it can be a fortress from the noises and chaos. I often indulge in the thought that in solitude, there is rest, there is solace. In solitude, no one wields the power to hurt me.
Inevitably, the silence haunts. Sadness and melancholy subtly pinch the heart, lingering at the corners where clarity of thoughts and self-awareness are supposed to reside. Have you ever gone through it? The absence of disturbance can be disturbing, and the silence can be deafening.
In our conscious choice to be alone, in our voyage within ourselves, in our quest for inner peace and self-protection, we unknowingly inflict pain within ourselves we are still not immune with — the longing of being loved and valued by others, the warmth of companionship, the yearning for genuine human connection.
Will we ever be free from the pain that we unconsciously bear that only self-reflection brings out? Will we ever be healed from the wounds we protect ourselves from, in solitude’s fortress? The wounds not just inflicted by others, but us ourselves?
Sometimes, in someone’s solace, others break; in its refuge, others find pain; in its stillness, some find chaos. In solitude, there is freedom, but to some, it is confinement and isolation.
Solitude can’t guarantee you anything. What it can offer is as diverse as the human experience.
