SONG — “Not Alone Here”
She noticed the loneliness most in company.
A table of friends.
Easy laughter.
Familiar stories looping comfortably around the room.
And yet—there it was.
A hollow ache behind the sternum.
A sense of being slightly outside the circle, even while seated right in it.
She used to think loneliness meant no one was there.
But tonight, people were everywhere.
She excused herself and stepped outside. Cool air. The low hum of traffic. A dog barking somewhere down the street.
The ache followed her.
So she stopped walking and felt it directly.
It wasn’t emptiness.
It was distance.
A subtle sense of being buffered by an invisible pane—life happening just on the other side of glass.
She realised then that loneliness wasn’t about absence of people.
It was about absence of contact.
Not contact with others—but contact with what was happening in her.
She had been present socially, but absent experientially.
She stood there and let the feeling be exactly as it was. No fixing. No reframing. No reaching.
The ache softened—not because someone appeared, but because she did.
When she went back inside, nothing dramatic changed. Same people. Same noise.
But the glass wasn’t there.
She laughed when something was funny. Fell quiet when it wasn’t. Didn’t need to be understood.
The loneliness didn’t vanish.
It simply stopped being lonely.
INVESTIGATION — “What Is Loneliness Made Of?”
This isn’t about solving loneliness.
It’s about meeting it accurately.
1. Locate loneliness in the body
When loneliness appears, notice:
chest
throat
belly
posture
Ask:
Is this emptiness—or disconnection?
Often it’s disconnection from self-experience, not from others.
2. Separate loneliness from aloneness
Aloneness is physical.
Loneliness is relational.
Ask:
Am I actually alone—or am I not in contact?
You can be surrounded and lonely.
You can be alone and not lonely.
3. Notice the reach
Loneliness often includes:
scanning
hoping
comparing
waiting to be met
Ask:
What am I reaching for right now?
And then:
What happens if I stop reaching?
4. Experiment with presence
Try this gently:
feel the ache
don’t narrate it
don’t ask it to leave
Ask:
Can this be here without someone else fixing it?
Often, something settles.
5. The quiet recognition
Loneliness isn’t proof you’re unlovable.
It’s often the feeling of being unaccompanied by yourself.
When presence returns, companionship follows—sometimes inwardly, sometimes outwardly.