Being alone is a strange feeling – often one I’ve battled with. I’ve felt the pull from both sides of the spectrum. An innate craving to be alone, to isolate and recover from the overstimulation of the world. Yet, simultaneously, feeling a weight when I do. This pressure to embrace community, connection… Even a longing at times to not feel excluded. The strangest feeling is when it creeps in around others. When you are sat in a full room trying to decide if you feel lonelier in the chaos or in the comfort of your solitude. 

The introvert’s conundrum: knowing you enjoy the attention, yet fearing its existence. The dopamine drain at the end of the day. 

What always intrigued me most is how those feelings can shift when you’re with just one other person. And… how significant that shift may be based on who the other is. Sometimes in life, you get this wild opportunity for the other to fill your cup. Instead of having to keep topping up your own reserves, just being around them keeps it level. They give you the connection you crave but don’t seem to require you to deplete your resources for it. Is that balance? Of course, you get the flipside too. Those that offer up connection but continue to take and take your finite supply of vitality. Yet the former does make you risk losing it all. Losing yourself. They don’t take your resources because you offer them up freely, sign them over. Because if they can stimulate that perfect balance between attention and solitude, well then… what else do you really need? It’s a dangerous game to play. This thing called life and love.