To the shadows that make the light shine more bright.

I am in bed, restless. Someone walks into my room, without a knock, without a word, and lays beside me. He feels familiar, and I try to ignore him, but he won’t go away.

Tonight, I am not alone.

Tonight, loneliness is with me.

I’ve been trying to outrun him for weeks now, filling my schedule with meet-ups, with chores, with noise. But that can only last so long. Sooner or later, in the quiet moments of the night, he will catch up. And tonight is one of those nights.

He caresses my face, his fingers smooth, running down my cheek, leaving a weight on my chest. Where did all the air go? I think of memories as clouds—clouds that drift by, that float lazily, that I want to catch, to hold, to lay on, just for a moment.

But I let them drift.

Acknowledge them,

but let them drift by.

I realize you can’t outrun loneliness forever, so I turn towards him, hold his hand. And in turn, he holds mine. I rest my head on his chest, look up at the ceiling. In this moment, in this silence, where not even the crickets are brave enough to break the stillness, we lay there. Just the two of us.

He’s not here to harm me.

He’s here to teach.

He tells me that loneliness is a friend of happiness, that you can’t truly appreciate one without the other. After all, you can’t be grateful for the summer without enduring the winter. He tells me that he’s the shadow beside the light, that his purpose is to make the light shine brighter. He tells me I’m only human, that I love deeply, that it’s okay to yearn for connection.

So I wrap my arms around him, close my eyes. There is courage in this, I think. Courage in facing what most people spend their lives avoiding. By embracing him, holding him close, I’m allowing loneliness to walk beside me on this journey, this wonderful, messy, beautiful journey of discovery.

We stay like that for a long time.

Loneliness, paradoxically,

is my companion tonight.

My eyes grow heavy, my body softens. Somewhere in the middle of the night, he leaves. I think he kisses my forehead, I think his fingers run through my hair. But I am fast asleep by then.

I dream of him. We are crossing the street. His friends are there too. Joy, sadness, anger, envy. We’re all walking down the sidewalk together, and I realize—

I am not truly alone.

All of these emotions are part of me. By acknowledging them, by embracing them, like old friends met again, they work with me. They lift me higher. They show me that to feel the fullness of life, to experience it in its entirety, is to welcome all of them. To cherish all of them. And so I do.