Loneliness: A Disease No One Talks About

What does loneliness really do to a person? Can it actually drive someone insane? Sometimes I wonder if people truly understand what it feels like to be introverted and trapped in your own silence. They say being alone is peaceful, that solitude is a gift—but what happens when the silence gets too loud, when the peace feels more like punishment than comfort?

Loneliness isn’t just sitting in an empty room. It feels like being stuck, with nowhere to go and no one to go to. How do you even begin to make friends in adulthood, when it seems like everyone already has their somebody? Childhood made it easier—classmates, neighbours, cousins. But now? People have their best friends, their circles, their partners. Where do you fit in when you’ve always been on the outside looking in?

And what happens when the only people you can communicate with are potential boyfriends? We know how that story usually ends. They don’t stay. You either cling too much, desperate for someone to see you, or you suffocate them with your need for closeness. Then they leave, and you’re left feeling emptier than before. Is it you? Are you too much for people to handle? Or maybe, just maybe, not enough?

People like to say you don’t need friends, that friends will eventually betray you or leave you behind. But can anyone truly survive without at least one or two people in their life? Isn’t it human nature to want to be noticed, to want someone who will call just to check in? Imagine switching off your phone for weeks and coming back to nothing. No missed calls. No messages. Just silence. How would that not drive someone mad?

Sometimes I ask myself: how does a person even start to socialise when interaction feels like climbing a mountain with no strength? How do you walk into a room and start talking when your mind is screaming at you to stay quiet? Is it possible to learn how to connect later in life, or is it too late once you’ve spent years in your own shell?

Maybe the answer lies in small beginnings. Could it be as simple as joining a space where people share your interests? A book club, a gym class, volunteering? But then again, what if people already have their cliques, their inside jokes, their bonds you can’t penetrate? Do you stand there on the outside, or do you keep trying?

And even if you do meet people, how do you stop yourself from expecting too much too soon? Loneliness makes you crave closeness instantly, but doesn’t that push others away? How do you balance wanting connection without suffocating it?

The truth is, yes, it’s nice having your own space. Yes, independence is beautiful. But is it enough? Can a person really be a loner forever? I don’t think so. We need people. We need someone who will notice when the silence has gone on for too long, someone who will ask, “Are you okay?” and genuinely mean it.

So I keep wondering: how does someone like me—introverted, quiet, maybe even invisible—learn to connect in a world that feels too full for them? Maybe it’s not about finding a crowd. Maybe it’s about finding just one person who listens, who stays. But where do you find that person? And until then, how do you keep the loneliness from swallowing you whole?