A Familiar Loneliness

Long walks under the usually starry, dark sky in my mountainous college town were a normal and favorite pastime of solitude for me. The somewhat strenuous, and even more pleasurable strain of my legs going up hilly roads and sidewalks adorned with local businesses. The whoosh of cars. The friendly yet firm male voice programmed into the street lights at crosswalks, repeatedly commanding “wait” fading in and out as I passed by them, before announcing that the walk sign turned on. The grassy campus lined with Hokie-stoned buildings and lights that mimicked the sky above. Despite it being nearly five years since I’ve wandered there, and even longer since I’ve graduated college, vivid memories of lights from coffee shops, restaurants and university buildings contrasted against the night sky feel familiar to me like a second skin. If I close my eyes, I’m suddenly back there, as if I’ve never left— the familiarity causing me to wonder if the present 28 year old version of me living in Texas is an illusion, a hallucination from the true present really being of my memory where I was still a college student at Virginia Tech.

In the eerie wonder of the night during those walks, I felt so much beauty, these sights mingling with distant chatter echoing connection and community, igniting something from within my soul. I thought I felt God in many of those moments, if God existed. 

Was it God I felt, or was God what I decided to create company in, ultimately seeking not to be alone, to know that someone, something, was witnessing the awe inspiring cosmic and earthly beauty around me?

Or is God ever present in these forms of beauty, at the root of even the presence of another person we share love with?

An existential awareness– strange, yet pleasant. Comforting, but also slightly jarring.

I craved the warmth that I envied from friend groups and romantic couples enjoying each other’s company as we walked past each other. At the same time, I felt gratitude for my solo endeavors as I connected with my consciousness, expanding my awareness of myself— of my existence.

Of my existential wonder, resulting from the contrast of my loneliness and love for solitude triggered by the contrast of me walking by myself against clusters of company I wasn’t a part of.

Of my grief in holding this wonder alone— longinf for someone to share it with, but cherishing the beauty of these moments that are only possible in this aloneness in the trinity of my mind, body and soul.

Sensual, yet lonely. 

Must I always be a solo wanderer of my own mind?

Fast forward to October of this year, 2025: I wandered through an opera-house-turned-bookstore in a college town in North Texas. Taking in the newly renovated yellow wooden floors in the well lit, inviting and quiet basement save for a few distant voices and gentle sounds of construction in curtained areas, I found myself being consumed with that same existential awareness that accompanied me on my college night walks. And I felt it again as I walked through the town square, bustling with college students and older adults, appreciating the art incorporated into various corners in anticipation of Halloween. A skeleton loomed over from a very tall building in the corner, and purple lights created a comforting yet mysterious ambiance from the courthouse in the center of everything. A spooky but cute monster character welcomed people to Halloween in Denton on a mural, inviting small crowds to get in line to take photos with it. Kids screamed in part fear and part excitement as they ran away from big furry monsters that wandered where they were not far from the courthouse.

There were sounds of friends and couples intertwining with the silence of my existential longing, awareness of my solitude increasing to a point of acknowledged loneliness. 

Manifesting as a familiar void in my stomach– one that connected me to myself in a satisfying way, while bringing pain at the same time. 

Loneliness. 

Longing. 

Pleasure.

In Denton, Texas, just like in Blacksburg, Virginia. 

Especially in moments like these, despite various instances walking the night with friends, this void seemed to be my natural state– 

Throughout my life, even in my deepest moments of feeling connected with others where it was forgotten, the void was my default. 

Perhaps I didn’t always feel its pang because the light of only a few certain someone else’s presence made me feel that I wasn’t truly alone.

Or even if I was, at least I had the illusion of connection. 

Or it wasn’t always an illusion— it simply took form, next to the void, reducing it to a mere shadow as it expanded and overpowered it with its light.

Where instead of dismissing the Sun as a myth created by the ego of tiny stars, I actually believed that I got to experience brighter light, too.

My Night got to make love with Day, even I got to see sunrises and sunsets

oranges pinks yellows purples, light blues

morphing to and fro the beautiful cloak announcing their arrivals and bidding them off

I get to evolve, too

With the existential awareness of my existence, there came a peace of wonder with a longing– satisfying, and lonely yet grounding.

Sometimes it’s not pain that you need help carrying. 

Sometimes, it’s happiness, too. Joy, pleasure and passion. 

Good things, not just bad. Celebration, not just grief. 

Oftentimes, the pain comes from being the sole barer of your own joy.

It wasn’t that the darkness was meaningless, it just was made lonely without the light

Light without darkness lacks meaning, as love without inconvenience is a farce

Meaningful existence isn’t about being happy all the time, but rather that an existential peace is the default regardless

Maybe the grounding in pain I feel comes from knowing that the pain I feel is evidence of the existence of something deeper than what I’ve known, that it still exists even if I haven’t experienced it, regardless of whether I ever will

But I have great hope that I will

I still believe in what I have not yet experienced, even in my hopelessness.