2. Guilt and fear arise.
Every day, I oscillate between “I deserve peace” and “I’ve lost something important.” Sometimes, I long for a man’s shoulder to lean on. There are times when I just want someone to hold me and whisper, “Everything will be alright.” But at home, there is only silence. And that silence is stronger than any words.
3. You get used to solitude.
At first, it’s painful. Then, you get used to it. No one criticizes, demands anything, or is late. But with time, the lively exchanges, the smiles, and the spontaneity disappear. At some point, you realize: comfort doesn’t rhyme with happiness.
What I learned about myself
Solitude isn’t a condemnation. It’s simply a pause, a moment to reconnect with oneself. But if you linger in it too long, you risk losing your zest for life. I’m now trying to gradually reconnect with the world, to go out more, to communicate, to relearn how to believe. I’m no longer twenty, but I believe life isn’t over. It’s simply the beginning of a new chapter.
I’m no longer afraid of age. It has taught me the most important thing: to love myself unconditionally. And if one day fate brings a man back into my life, I will accept him not out of fear of loneliness, but because I will sincerely desire to be with him
