Saved in Solitude

I am a loner by nature. If I would invite you to observe one tiny fraction of my life, I think you would unflinchingly attest to that in a matter of seconds. I love being by my lonesome self; I guess I was born like that. It's amazing how my mother's normally quiet genes would overpower my father's wickedly gregarious ones, thus rendering me a woman of few words. More convincing evidence is that I'm an only child, and more often than not, only children are generally pensive and are capable of creating their own worlds... but then I'm not your armchair psychologist, and so I might be bluffing for my inexcusable unsociability-since-birth.

My childhood is typical of the little girl who's comfortable in the corner of the room while everyone else was chasing each other. Sure, I'd have playmates here and there, but most of the time I'd just sit around and doodle, or ride the swing, or take a nap on my desk. Even at an early age I hated noise so I did not make much. No wonder I was awarded "Most Disciplined" in my nursery.

Growing up only made things worse, or weirder. Being quiet evolved to being shy, which was a tad unexplainable up to now, even to me. My preschool report cards would show consecutive remarks of "Must overcome shyness", an all-time grand slam. Maybe I understood the phrase "Don't speak unless you're spoken to" the wrong way. I was always hesitant to read a story, much less act out, in front of my classmates that I'd hide under the table whenever my name was called. When I do talk aloud, like whenever I recite, my voice always comes off unusually soft, and it ticks me off. I recall the time when we had a Biology presentation, I was already shouting from the platform yet my teacher couldn't hear me in the back of the room. What stage fright!

Please don't even get me started with chit-chat. I will insist that I am a good listener and let you do the talking -- I'm a terrible conversationalist! We'd probably run around in circles talking about the weather and nothing but "How's your life?" and "Are you okay?" in between kilometric gaps of silence. Books gave me the perfect alibi for being aloof to the rest of civilization. I devoured them, allowing myself to traverse through different realms with gallant heroes and psycho-dramatic subplots. The library was a refuge, an escape from all things loud and embarrassing. I also liked to take quiet walks around school, and unlike Macaulay Culkin's character, I'm perfectly fine being home alone. Hell yes, I would pretty much do anything else except mingle. I'd watch TV for hours, listen to my favorite music, write essays or poetry -- and since we're in the 21st century -- browse the Internet forever and ever. And if there's an actual need to talk, I'd grunt or nod or mumble gibberish. My parents have grown so exasperated of me, they must've thought I had actually gone mute.

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I am a loner, but not always. Adam was alone and sad in Eden, even with everything he could probably want around him, and so God created Eve so he can have companionship. Well, no religious semantics here but the same goes for me and everyone else. Being alone can be quite boring, actually. You’d run out of things to do, and you must’ve spent nearly a quarter of your earthly existence just being contemplative and glassy-eyed. You spend your life detaching from it and then find it biting you back. The world passes you by, leaving you out from the hustle and bustle of things. There is certain pleasure in going solo, but only to an extent. On a particularly dreary day, when you walk with your hands in your pockets and looking very much like The Loneliest Person Alive, you’ll meet a pack of your peers just giggling and chattering away, and you’d wonder why you’re missing all that fun. There are moments that you will find that you are remarkably alone, wistful and unhappy.

But in all these years of self-imposed seclusion, it's incredible that I have gained a number of friends in spite of my initially snobbish personality. That there are those willing to knock me out of my stupor and experience happiness with the company of interesting people. I met my best friend in Grade One. I for the most part, was particularly friendless that time. I don’t know how it all began but then we just started talking to each other about homework, I think. And before you know it, we became inseparable. We’d talk about anything, eat lunch together, take trips to the library, do all sorts of adventures, and even when we get home we’d still talk on the phone for hours. It was almost like that for the rest of elementary. Other classmates would say how different we were even if we’re best friends – she was chatty and extroverted while I was very reserved. Maybe opposites do attract. Even if we don’t share classrooms, courses, or social groups anymore over the years, we’d still find time to communicate and chat like the old days. It must be the secret of an extraordinary friendship that has lasted twelve years and counting.

Talking may be a good thing after all. I met a great friend of mine back in high school and the best memories I’ve had were after-class conversations on philosophy, religion, and even finance! We’d share secrets, give our own opinions on relationship matters, and laugh about the silliest things. I have cultivated friendships with fellow colleagues from my school orgs – the school paper, and would you believe, the drama guild – and I have gained a lot of insight from them. They were a smartly neurotic bunch, but I felt happy with them because it was one of the times where I felt I belonged. College gave me a chance to branch out and found myself lucky with the friends I’ve made so far as they are the nicest, most genuine people ever.

I might have downgraded my parents earlier, but really, they’re great! They’ve seen through my best and my worst. They know me inside and out, and they’re very supportive. They know when I need some space, and when I’m practically crying out for help but am too proud to say so. They annoy me sometimes but come on, parents can be like that! I’d like to think that I treat my mom as a sister and that I have a good bonding relationship with my dad. I guess we’re the only ones we’ve got.

Many times I might have taken this for granted, but deep down I am indebted to them – my family, my friends, acquaintances, strangers. They’re a good enough reason to stop sulking in the corner and enjoy how it is to live and love. They are the spice of life, and life is indeed wonderful.

I am a loner, yes, but I know I am not alone.

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Note: This essay was published in [dis]kwento, the Literary Journal of the UST-AMV College of Accountancy (June 2008 issue).