I love silence and being alone, but there's a difference between being alone and feeling alone. Being alone brings me peace. I can just focus on myself. I do not have to concern myself with the opinions of others. I can truly be myself when I am alone because there is no one there to judge me. I flood my room with the sound of music which creates a barrier between myself and the outside world. This barrier allows me to do the things that I enjoy. The things that make me smile like talking to myself, reflecting on my life, and looking unpresentable. I feel complete. When I'm not alone, negativity starts to surround me in the form of toxic, careless, and draining people everywhere. It feels like they take my spark away.

My life at home was never great. I went home to an example of love that was unhealthy. Although I had seen positive relationships among family members, I did not see that between my parents. My parents were constantly arguing. I did not have my own room so they would drag me into their quarrels. I would break down crying. My dad used me as a way to make my mom feel guilty. He weaponized my tears to win arguments. I could hear them when I would go into the bathroom or anywhere in the apartment. Their arguments deteriorated our relationship. On top of this, I would constantly have mood swings which only made matters worse. This led to my family wanting to put me in therapy because they claimed I was “crazy” and that I had bipolar disorder. I would always want to be anywhere else but my home.

Being surrounded by people that I truly cared for has never hurt me more. I've been left confused, guilt-tripped, unhappy, exhausted, and used all which felt like the darkness swallowed me and that's when I truly felt alone. I looked in the mirror and could not recognize the face looking back at me. The gaunt eyes staring back at me were exhausted and sad. I looked dead, crumbling to pieces, and a ghost of my former self. I was surrounded by the negativity and toxicity of people who I had a lot of love for, but this love was draining me. It left me feeling like I did not belong. I cried every night. It felt like I was losing myself to a person that was physically present but emotionally gone. I ate less. I slept less. Somehow, my love remained the same.

There's a difference between being alone and feeling alone. Even though I still climb to the top of my bunk bed and create my sanctuary of silence and solitude, I have come to the realization that as much as I like being alone, I sometimes need to escape this loneliness. My brother is that escape. It is almost like the walls melt away just enough to allow him into my safe space before closing behind him. He has been my other half since the day I was born. The beautiful nostalgia overpowers my brain thinking of our childhood memories and how they have continued throughout my life. He is the light at the end of the tunnel. He is the only one who truly cared for me while I was in such a dark place and did anything he could to make sure I was happy. There has been no other person that supports me as much as he does. He has guided me through life, leading me to a path of success. My brother has shown me more love than anyone else and I could not be any more thankful for him. He is the reason I became the person I am today. It was clear that I wouldn't have gotten out of that overflowing pool of sadness without him. Being alone isn't always the answer to avoiding the toxicity in the air, sometimes I just need to surround myself with people who make me feel eternal bliss.

© Angie. All rights reserved. If you are interested in quoting this story, contact the national team and we can put you in touch with the author’s teacher.