on living alone
is it freedom or loneliness?
It was a usual bus ride after work when suddenly a thought crossed my mind. The sleepy Jakarta because its people are going back to their hometown in droves during Ramadhan sort of reminds me of the hustles in my hometown. My mind, a lot of times, is a mess. So one thought gradually becomes many thoughts.
Started from, “How tranquil Jakarta is during this period,” to: “I miss baking some cookies with my mom”, “Well at least I can dodge some of those small questions from my neighbors and relatives”, “All the tenants are closed and now I’m hungry”, and many more. Those thoughts stopped when I reached my room.
No one greeted me. No lover, no pet. All I have is myself and my space.
Well, that’s not a big deal.
Or quite a deal sometimes.
It’s not a long time since I live on my own. But as a Southeast Asia kid who grew up with almost no privacy and had to share a bedroom with my siblings, this is the thing that I wanted; to have my own room, to have my own space, to live far from home.
The moment I could live on my own is called ‘freedom’. I can wake up and sleep at any time I want. I can hang out until past midnight without worrying my neighbor badmouthing me. I can have a plateful of satay, all to myself. I can watch Netflix with my snacks and tea or hot chocolate without any disturbance. And most importantly, I can have all the time and space for me when my social battery is run out.
This is great. Terrific. Bonzer. Truly pleasant.
Although, of course, there are prices I have to pay. Literally, to pay. The bills won’t get paid by themselves and I have to feed myself, by myself. If something is broken, I have to fix it by myself, or call a friend, or call a craftsman. So basically, I have to do everything on my own.
That is when I realized that I take some things for granted. For example, the cooking made by my mom. Or an offering from my siblings, “Hey sis, want a cup of tea? I’m making one so I think you’d like some”. Mostly, the warmth of home even if that’s imperfect.
While I let the hustles of this city get too near and almost consume me whole, I wonder if the freedom of living by oneself is also lonely. Jakarta is too busy and noisy but the people tend to be lonely. The number has even reached 56%. And I’m contributing to that number.
That lonely feeling sometimes hits harder when the night comes, when I’m battling with my thoughts and sleep difficulty. Sure, this is the life I wanted, the space I wanted and I feel grateful. But somehow, I cannot shake this loneliness. They are like a tiny little friend that is always hanging out on my shoulder and morphing to be bigger or smaller depending on the circumstances.
And it is not easy to make peace with that feeling. To be able to finally accept that maybe you will never be able to make that loneliness go away and treat it like your dearest childhood friend. So, I think the freedom of living alone always comes with loneliness.
What matters the most is to enjoy the freedom of living alone and sitting while having conversations with loneliness when they knock on your door.
