loneliness, you’re welcome to come in.

For the longest time, I wasn’t able to admit to myself that I ever felt lonely.

Lonely in my mind was painted as my biggest insecurity, my greatest weakness, something that I didn’t want to have the pleasure of feeling.

I used to fill my time with hours of plans with friends, mindlessly scroll through my phone and watch TV shows, the list goes on. Nothing could’ve prepared me for the bouts of loneliness I was about to experience throughout college.

Yes, I’ve got groups of friends that I study with, have fun with, do most things with. Yes, I miss my parents from time to time, I’ll facetime them here and there. My boyfriend is miles away, but we make time for each other every day. At the end of the day, it’s just me.

In high school, I had no problem spending time alone in my childhood bedroom or going on long drives with loud music as my only company. I didn’t think this time alone would be any different when I got to college, it only just prepared me. So I thought.

Yes, I have to cook for myself now, do my own laundry, no one is around to nag me anymore. What’s so different?

Mustering up the courage to take care of myself, day after day, even when I struggle to find a reason to keep going, might be one of the differences. Or maybe the simplicity of letting me admit to myself that commuting to my co-op gets lonely. Or maybe, for once, I’d like something other than my favorite songs to be my company for the night. Or maybe admitting that, yes, this is so fucking hard sometimes.

Just letting myself feel lonely, admit that I get lonely sometimes, even when it seems like I have everything, that it’s okay.

It’s not my greatest weakness, it’s a new level of vulnerability.

And I’d like to think my ability to be vulnerable with myself and others is one of my greatest strengths.