The Art of Being Alone

The Art of Being Alone§

“You have power over your mind — not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.”

— Marcus Aurelius

“He who suffers before it is necessary, suffers more than is necessary.”

— Seneca

I've spent a surprisingly large portion of my life trying to understand people.

Why they act the way they do. Why they judge. Why they accept some people and reject others. Why I can feel completely comfortable around someone one day, and completely out of place around someone else.

And eventually, I realized that there was one person I had spent very little time trying to understand.

Myself.

When you're constantly surrounded by people, there is always something to occupy your mind. Someone to talk to. Something to do. Somewhere to go.

Silence can feel uncomfortable, so we fill it.

But when you're alone, there is nothing left to fill it with.

Just your thoughts.

Solitude.

This is something that we have all experienced, one time or another. We've all been alone at some point, sitting there, staring at a wall, with the only thing keeping us company being our own thoughts.

For me, however, solitude wasn't always something I chose.

I moved to the States at the young age of four. When I went, I was in playgroup. Kids didn't really have an understanding of racism, bullying, or shaming people based on their bodies. Those were solid social constructs that we hadn't really developed yet.

When it was time for me to move back to India, I was almost in the sixth grade. Kids knew racial slurs. They were aware of what these concepts were.

I highlighted this idea in one of my previous articles about friendship. I was not accepted by most, here or there.

I spent a long time trying to figure out what I was doing wrong.

I tried to fit in. I tried to understand people. I tried to become someone people would want to be around.

Eventually, I got tired.

And when I stopped trying so hard to be accepted, I started spending more time by myself.

That is the very moment I found peace.

But the way I found it in?

Not the best way.

I became rather distant from everyone. I started thinking that these stupid Indians only talked about football, Free Fire, FC Mobile, reels, and whatever else was popular at the time.

This was true. To some extent.

It was not completely true.

I was focusing on all the negatives and not considering any of the good aspects of the people.

There was good in everyone.

And that is an attribute that is essential to success in one's life.

Be able to find light in darkness, lest you need not go blind.

I started inculcating this attribute, and I can proudly confirm that your life, if you focus on the positives rather than the negatives, becomes more colorful.

Eventually, however, my solitude started changing me in another way.

I started thinking that I was better than everyone else.

And to be completely honest, I wasn't entirely making it up.

For my age, I had done some things that were, objectively, unusual. I was building projects, writing, learning, thinking about things that most people my age probably weren't thinking about.

But there is a very fine line between recognizing that you are good at something and believing that you are better than everyone around you.

I crossed that line.

And for a while, I didn't even realize it.

I had gone from thinking “Maybe I'm not like everyone else” to thinking “Maybe I'm better than everyone else.”

There is a difference.

One is confidence.

The other is arrogance.

And I was starting to confuse the two.

I don't think I was completely delusional, either. For my age, I had done some things that I was genuinely proud of. I had built things, written things, learned things, and pursued interests that weren't exactly common among people my age.

But being ahead in some areas doesn't make you better than the people around you.

It just means you're ahead in those areas.

Now I had been alone for a long time. No true friends until a while back. No one to push back on my stupid ideas and delusions.

This backfired.

My mind was not trying to validate my ideas. I was listening only to my perspective and not other people's points of view.

I would often come up with ideas that I thought were brilliant, but in reality, they were delusional on another level.

At one point, I somehow went from listening to Macarena by Los del Río to researching chemistry, then nuclear weapons, and eventually ending up thinking about Rods from God.

I don't even know how my brain connected those dots.

This was when I was completely alone. My parents were out, and it was just me and my thoughts.

And the problem was that there was nobody there to question them.

I started taking the idea seriously. I was genuinely considering pursuing the project and even joining the military.

And somehow, I had convinced myself that this was a perfectly reasonable direction for my life.

Even ChatGPT was hyping me up, telling me that Rods from God was a great idea and that it could somehow contribute to world peace.

Looking back, I realize how ridiculous that was.

But that's what happens when you spend too much time inside your own head.

Solitude doesn't make your thoughts correct. It just makes them louder.

Now, this is not always the case.

Your mind is a bit like a drunken monkey.

It jumps from one thought to another, sees something interesting, grabs onto it, and runs.

Monkey see, monkey do.

The problem is that you are the one holding the leash.

Your mind needs 3 things.

Direction Validation Execution

Without Direction, you won't be able to validate nor execute.

Without Validation, your execution won't be flawless.

Without execution, your direction and validation will be meaningless.

Now this is where solitude plays the role of "Narad Muni".

It will definitely help you brainstorm the most incredible ideas.

But it will almost never help you ruthlessly validate your ideas. Even LLMs and GPTs hallucinate and agree to whatever you say.

This is where real friends come in.

They make you hear what you don't want to hear. They make you convince them. They validate.

Solo execution is difficult. Especially on massive projects.

Again, this is where being in solitude plays the role of "Narad Muni".

Being solo means that you can iterate without any time constraints and without having to adjust your schedule in accordance with your partners'.

But it also means that you have less workforce, thus taking more time (on most projects).

Solitude taught me to think for myself.

Friendship taught me that thinking for myself doesn't mean thinking by myself.

Let me elaborate.

See, I never, to this day, have found people who directly understand me, nor can contribute, nor are willing to contribute to what I am making.

This taught me to think alone, brainstorm alone.

Countless sleepless nights fixing and finding a single '.'. Thousands of hours spent on development of the project.

This changed when I met some of my closest friends in badminton class.

Husky.

Husky has been so eager to help and contribute to the project.

I just want to help! Anything!

Was a rather memorable line said by Husky which changed me.

It made me realize that I didn't have to think by myself. I had just gotten so used to it that I didn't know what thinking with someone felt like.

Now, when Husky said that, it got me thinking.

What if I accept help?

It's not going to make me any less of a man? We are humans. We all need help sometimes.

I had spent so long doing things by myself that accepting help almost felt unnatural.

But why?

Why was I so determined to carry everything myself when someone was literally standing there, willing to help?

Maybe independence isn't about refusing help.

Maybe it's about knowing that you can stand on your own, while also knowing when you don't have to.

We have all probably seen those “LEARN TO WALK ALONE” sigma edits and reels.

The mindset is partially right.

But the wording?

Nope.

The correct version should be:

“Learn to walk alone and accept crutches when your legs hurt.”

Now I don't think the answer is to stop being alone.

In fact, I still enjoy being alone.

I like working alone. I like thinking alone. I like going down ridiculous rabbit holes at 2 AM.

The difference is that now, I know when to come back.

Back to my friends.

Back to the people who will tell me when I'm being stupid.

Back to the people who will challenge an idea instead of simply agreeing with it.

Back to the people who will listen to me ramble for twenty minutes about some completely random idea, and somehow make it better.

I've learned that solitude and isolation are not the same thing.

Solitude is choosing to spend time with yourself.

Isolation is believing that you have to.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to work alone. There is nothing wrong with wanting silence. There is nothing wrong with enjoying your own company.

The problem begins when you convince yourself that you don't need anyone else.

Because you do.

We all do.

You need people who disagree with you. People who challenge you. People who make you laugh when you don't feel like laughing. People who tell you when your incredible idea is, in fact, completely ridiculous.

And sometimes, you need people who simply say:

I just want to help! Anything!

I spent years trying to become independent.

I think I succeeded.

But somewhere along the way, I confused independence with isolation.

I thought being strong meant carrying everything myself.

Now I think being strong means knowing what you can carry yourself, and knowing when to let someone else carry something for you.

There is strength in being able to walk alone.

But there is also strength in knowing when to walk with someone.

Maybe that is what solitude was supposed to teach me all along.

Not how to live without people.

But how to live with myself.

How to sit in silence without desperately trying to fill it.

How to think without needing someone else to tell me what to think.

How to enjoy my own company without believing that I am better than everyone else.

How to walk alone without being afraid of being alone.

And most importantly, how to know when to come back.

I started this article by saying that I spent a surprisingly large portion of my life trying to understand people.

Maybe I was looking in the wrong place.

Because somewhere along the way, I realized that I had spent years trying to understand everyone else while barely understanding myself.

I didn't understand why being alone gave me peace.

I didn't understand why that same solitude could make me arrogant.

I didn't understand why I was so against accepting help from people who genuinely wanted to help me.

I understand it a little better now.

I don't think being alone is something we should be afraid of.

You should be able to sit with yourself. You should be able to think for yourself. You should be able to work on something for hours without needing someone beside you.

But you should also know when to look up.

When to ask for help.

When to listen.

When to let someone challenge you.

Because being independent doesn't mean you have to do everything alone.

I still like solitude.

I probably always will.

I'll still disappear into my own head for hours. I'll still work on some ridiculous idea at 2 AM. I'll still go down rabbit holes that somehow make absolutely no sense.

The difference is that now, I know I can come back.

I can be alone without feeling lonely.

I can be around people without losing myself.

And I think that's what I was looking for all along.

Not a life without people.

Not a life surrounded by people.

Just a life where I'm comfortable with myself, whether someone else is in the room or not.

Maybe that's the art of being alone.

— Vihaan Vaghela