the truth behind living alone

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As in, one house – one person. Which actually seems quite the luxury when put like that (and I guess in many ways it is, especially with the state of the world today) but it’s not all glamorous dinner parties and extravagant breakfasts (as seen on my Instagram). Several people have congratulated me on doing so well in Japan but actually, the reality is far from that. Here’s the truth about living alone: it actually sucks. The truth is and we all know it, that humans are hard-wired to connect.

Every morning I wake up to an eerie silence. No kind mother preparing breakfast, no noisy father reading the paper and no inconsiderate flatmates. Just me and myself and maybe a stink bug (but let’s not think of that). Which is all well and good for personal growth and all that jazz but as I said, in reality, it actually sucks ass.

Worse than a lonely morning though, is a lonely night. Especially when living in an apartment with paper-thin walls. Every night I hear the couple next door, talking and giggling and engaging in God knows what and you know, I’m happy that they’re happy but I’m also not. Hearing their joy while I kill time on the internet is literally like Nelson from the Simpsons pointing with his fingers inches from my face, his breath the stench of salmon and screaming his iconic: HA HA!

Then there’s the food problem. Cooking for one IS rocket science. It is incredibly difficult to cook for just one person. I usually end up cooking for 2 or more and either eating the whole thing (accidently hahoheha) to avoid spoilage and in turn putting on weight or just letting it spoil which is just shit. Also, cooking for one is not enjoyable. What’s the fun in cooking a fancy meal and eating it on your own? In fact, while I’m at it let me just say, travelling is amazing and the world is amazing and the adventures I’ve had and the places I’ve seen are unreal but deep in the fabric of my soul, I yearn to SHARE what I see, hear, eat and do with PEOPLE. In particular, my mother, my father, my sister and my brother-in-law. For one thing, I’ve lost count of the number of dishes I wished they could taste, too. Charlotte Bronte once said, “Happiness quite unshared can scarcely be called happiness; it has no taste,” and I couldn’t agree more (in every sense of the word).

So I actively engage in day trips and dinner parties and so on and so forth but not because my life just happens to be so. Lest we forget, there are two sides to every story; a hidden truth. A midnight fight behind the happy couple. A chocolate binge behind the acai bowl.  A lonely home behind the group photo.