Besides, being alone does not mean you cannot have fun or enjoy life. There are many things a person can do alone, especially now that smartphones exist. Being solo does not automatically mean failure.
In the days before smartphones, when I felt restless, I found ways to ease my mind: reading a favourite book, listening to favourite music, or watching favourite shows. When sadness or anger came, I would either drink a glass of water to cool my mind, or hide in a corner of the house and cry silently without anyone’s comforting words.
With a smartphone, I have more choices when alone – reading a meaningful post, watching a movie or video, or even chatting with an AI companion.
Offline, I can meditate, exercise, or simply clean the house to create a better environment for myself. Occasionally I meet with a few close friends, but most of the time I am with myself.
I have also discovered that solitude, especially in quiet surroundings, allows me to journal my thoughts or reflect on my life. And when I am alone in a crowd, I can choose not to look at my phone. Instead, I sit or stand in a corner and observe the world: a bird chirping, a flower blooming, clouds drifting across the sky. Watching people quietly and guessing what they might be thinking can be strangely enjoyable.
Over the years, I have become more independent and need less mental support from others. Being alone does not feel like failure or disaster – at least, I do not see my life that way.
A New Question
I have learned that solitude can be a quiet friend rather than an enemy. Yet one question remains:
If connection is so highly valued by the world, why do we rarely ask whether a person might be more whole, not less, when they have learned to walk alone?
This is the final part of the series. Thank you for reading.