BREAKING
BEL
UNFILTERED CHATS
Light in solitude
Throughout life, we all face moments that seem dark. Whether it's the loss of a loved one, health problems, loneliness, or simply the challenges that come with the passage of time, it's natural to feel a little adrift at times. But even on the grayest days, there is a light waiting for us to discover it. And no, it's not always found behind a dramatic cloud: sometimes it's in a book, on a walk, or even in the pleasure of laughing at ourselves.
Loneliness can be chosen or imposed, and in both cases it deserves our attention. Being alone does not mean being abandoned; it means, on occasion, having time to reconnect with what really matters. For example, yes, that silence can be uncomfortable, but it can also be the perfect setting to listen to your favorite music at full volume without anyone looking at you strangely.
Enjoying moments of solitude helps us grow and find peace. The key is to distinguish when solitude nourishes us and when it hurts us. Because, let's be honest, spending a whole day watching TV series without talking to anyone can be a luxury... or an emotional trap. It all depends on how we experience it.
Over time, isolation can affect our health and mood. Losing loved ones and being aware of our own fragility makes us value more the relationships that give us energy and joy. That's why, at this stage, it's essential to choose wisely with whom we share our time, how we communicate, and how we show empathy. Yes, even if that means saying "no" to endless meetings that leave us exhausted rather than nourished.
Support, affection, and good conversations remind us that we are not alone. Participating in activities we enjoy keeps our spark alive and strengthens our bonds. And if we dare to laugh at life's little ironies—like still looking for mismatched socks even at 70—so much the better.
With a little self-love and the right company, we can transform our experience, move forward with strength, and enjoy every moment. Because loneliness is not a punishment: it is a stage where we can dance to our own rhythm, with the light that we ourselves decide to turn on.
Loneliness
Between mental spa and echoing punishment
Loneliness sounds like a big, apocalyptic word, as if you had been sentenced to spend your days talking to the walls. But in reality, it's much more ironic: it can be a luxury, a trap, or simply the perfect excuse to turn up the music without anyone looking at you strangely... except your cat, who is already planning your funeral.
Because, let's be clear: being alone does not mean being forgotten. Sometimes it's a breather, a luxury for the rich without money. That silence that at first smells like emptiness can become the ideal setting to rediscover what matters. And yes, sometimes what matters is finishing an entire series in one day and then solemnly swearing that "you only watched a couple of episodes." Liar, but happy.
Chosen solitude is like a mental spa: no one gives you orders, no one judges you, no one reminds you that the plant in the kitchen is dead because you forgot to water it a month ago. Imposed solitude, on the other hand, stings, bites, hurts. It reminds you of losses, fragilities, and that sometimes your only table companions are medication leaflets. But even in that bitter face there is a lesson: you begin to understand that it's not about collecting people around you, but about filtering well and keeping the little—and the good—that really matters.
Everyday life already gives us enough absurdity: endless lines at the supermarket that seem like rehearsals for hell, bureaucratic procedures designed by sadists, and impatient relatives who ask, "Alone again?" Yes, again. And tomorrow too, thank you. Company doesn't always add up; sometimes it subtracts. That's why it's best to stick with people who light your spark, even if it's just to laugh together about how you're still looking for mismatched socks at 70.
Can prolonged loneliness hurt us? Of course, we're humans, not cacti. But it's also true that it can give us time to listen to ourselves, laugh at our quirks, and set up a karaoke session in our pajamas with the TV remote as a microphone. No one will applaud you except the echo, but at least you won't be any more out of tune than your brother-in-law at Christmas.
In the end, loneliness is not a punishment, it's a stage. And there you decide: would you rather give a tragic monologue worthy of Shakespeare... or put on a circus where the audience is your mismatched socks and your epitaph could be: "he died alone, but laughing"?