On Being Alone

By Erin Deborah Waks

I write best when I’m alone. It’s as if the pressure of being fully reliant on myself, combined with the looming threat of potential loneliness, pushes me to create. I need to suffer (somewhat) to produce art. Cliche, I know.

I also love to be alone. Be it travelling solo, spending a mere few hours by myself in a coffee shop, or living alone, I love the freedom and independence being with myself gives me. I get a few hours of space from the pressure of having to consider everyone else’s emotions, quieten them down in order to listen purely to my own. Because time spent alone is time spent with myself, time spent cultivating my relationship with myself. It’s the place I learn more about who I am, and the pressure of having to cater to or worry about someone else is removed from my shoulders. Alone time is where I can be truly myself, and I love that.

Being surrounded by people is the easiest antidote to discomfort and creative struggle. It stops me from having to think, to put pen to paper and untangle the mess of thoughts and feelings at any given moment. But just because it’s the easiest solution, does not mean it’s the best - far from it.

I’m better when I’m alone. At least for a little while. By nature I am extroverted, I love being surrounded by people. It has taken me years to work out exactly which ones to keep around. But to write, I have to abandon my nature and force myself into a form of solitude, an uncomfortable yet exceedingly positive place of aloneness.

My identity is as in flux as my life right now. As things move and change, expand and grow, I feel I’m learning more things about myself. I learn the most when I am in these moments alone. The ones where I’m bored, unsure of how to entertain myself. The ones where I’m losing meaning, I’m lacking inspiration.

When I don’t feel like writing, or feel I have nothing to say, there is only one solution: to write.