There was a time when being alone felt like something was missing.
Like silence was a gap that needed filling. Like spending an evening with just myself meant I was somehow falling behind on life. I'd reach for my phone, scroll, distract.. anything to avoid sitting still with my own thoughts.
But lately, something has shifted.
I've started looking forward to my own company. Not in a way that shuts people out, but in a way that finally lets me in.
I cook for myself now and actually enjoy it. I take walks without music sometimes, just to hear what my mind is thinking. I sit with my morning coffee a little longer, not because I have nowhere to be, but because I want to be here.. fully.. before the day begins.
There's a difference between being alone and being lonely. I used to blur those lines. Now I see them clearly.
Loneliness is the ache of disconnection. Solitude is the comfort of reconnection.. with yourself.
I think for a long time I was looking for home in other people, in places, in plans. And maybe I needed to. Maybe that searching taught me what to look for.
But right now, in this season, home feels like something I carry with me. In the stillness. In the quiet. In the version of me who no longer needs noise to feel whole.
And that feels like enough.