I had never even thought about it before, but when I read my mom's text after sending her a saddening rant on the television-muffled silence of my apartment on a rainy Sunday, I knew I'd never read anything so true.

There is a great expectation, especially in the college years, that alone time does not exist. Whether it be the kids you refer to as 'just classmates,' the crew of dudes you call your brothers, your kind, and caring sorority sisters, or your most recent man crush, there are always people surrounding you. I mean, don't all college students just wish for those thirty minutes of dead dorm silence that almost trances you into napping? Laughing, studying, drinking, crying – there's always someone there. It's a vision we start to develop and abide by from the first time we watch A Cinderella Story and cry for 'Diner Girl,' what my friends and I knew as the social outcast…the loner and the loser.

As I spent the many days lying outside on my Intracoastal dock alone, the fear of being 'Diner Girl' was as present as the droplets of sweat in the South Florida heat. I feared that my reputation would be ruined because I wasn't scoring 500+ likes on Instagram in bikini shots with my clique of girlfriends. My Snapchat story didn't make the kids at family Sunday brunch singe with jealousy. And I was certainly never late to a high school class for the reason of needing to tell my friends the latest gossip on the weekend parties. Bikini photoshoots didn't exist. My only brunch involved a soggy bowl of cereal and a vision of my dad's knuckles wringing the newspaper that covered his face. From class-to-class, I felt lucky if I even got a soft-smile from the occasional passer-byer. Regardless of whether I had the reputation or not, in my own eyes, I was 'Diner Girl.' I had never even thought about it before, but when I read my mom's text after sending her a saddening rant on the television-muffled silence of my apartment on a rainy Sunday, I knew I'd never read anything so true.

For so many years I have beaten myself up over enjoying my time alone, having the freedom to do things at my own pace, and taking the time to sit in a silence that was chock-full of my over-active conscience threading questions through my mind. What's wrong with me? I always thought. In all actuality, there's nothing wrong here…I'm content with the value-centered person I am. I'm satisfied with the expectation-meeting results I achieve. I'm okay with the endless line of questions and thoughts that I somehow devise. These things are who I am and without them, I'd be lost – a much worse quality, in my mind, than lonely.

Each day when those expected lonely moments pass, I still have the soreness in my chest and the questions in my head. But the important thing is that I remember what my mom said:

Lonely is an image created by society. There's always pressure and expectation to be with people, but just because you aren't, doesn't mean you're alone. It's OK to be by yourself and enjoy doing things with your own self-company.

Oh, and let's not forget the mom-gif that everybody loves:

tenor.com

I know in my mind that I've heard similar, maybe even identical lines countless times. I think what made it different this time is that I'm ready. I'm finally comfortable in admitting to myself that I'd rather hold hands with my remote than an average stranger who isn't even satisfying my soul. And for the rest of the world…who really needs to know?