Dated – December, 2010
Solitude, as they define it, is ‘the state of being or living alone’. I always thought of it as a peaceful happy word. Where there is quiet, and there is no discontent. Where the mind doesn’t look for people or answers. On the other hand, the state of being or living alone is just that…lonely. It is not solitude. It is piteous and it just makes you look back to the time when friends were around, when plans were aplenty and well, when you were just effortlessly happy.
Being comfortable on your own is tough. If you learned how to, you just earned my respect. It is human nature to be needy. We crave for affection. We crave for attention. That’s how we are. Sometimes we don’t tell them, but we begrudge them for not being around. We blame. Because that makes it easy. That sounds fair. When small things you do become reminders of the people you care about, being alone becomes tough. Thoughts are good when you have a plan chalked out. When it is all hazy, you are definitely better off without any. Thinking is pure evil. At times.
So, like I said, solitude and being alone are not synonymous. Solitude is when you’re reading a good book. Looking at a beach on a sunny morning or at mountains on a chilly winter evening. You have your favourite person for company. A person with whom lack of conversation is not an awkward silence. And in this peaceful state, you close your eyes. And you smile. That’s solitude.