A few of my friends recently texted me or brought it up in our FaceTime, how difficult it was to be alone — to be physically by themselves. As an only child, this is kind of my area of expertise. I never had siblings to silently keep me company in a room, or talk to whenever I wanted to. So at first, it surprised me that there are grown adults who are uncomfortable being by themselves. But thinking about it, we have spent our whole lives being taught to make friends and to avoid being alone in public — and now all we do is be alone. No one prepared us for this. We can't even sit at a restaurant and eat a meal by ourselves without feeling awkward, how were we expected to conduct our entire life in one house?

Solitude, prior to the pandemic, was one of my greatest treats to myself. I could unwind, day-dream, journal, dance around to music. I cherished it. And so I thought that if anyone could give advice on being alone, it was the introverted only child inside me. Then I broke down.

A few weeks ago, I realized it had been a month since I had met up with anyone (with a mask on of course). Staying at home with my aloof parents, I hadn't talked much with anyone either. The days were spent avoiding my work. Everyone in the house carried on in different rooms.

One day, I was mindlessly watching something on my laptop and couldn't remember the last time someone hugged me — I couldn't remember the last time someone touched me.

So I drove to the park and cried in my car in the parking lot.

It was one of those cries that felt like it could last for hours, never-ending. I felt trapped, without anything or anyone to turn to. This wasn't true — I know I had so many loving friends waiting for me to text them my troubles, but it felt like that. I indulged in some much-needed self-pity while also wondering why I felt this way. Was it because I wasn't motivated enough? Was it because I didn't plan my days better and reach out consistently to people? Or was it because I just didn't have any real distractions from all my failures?

The fact was none of these questions were fair to ask. I was physically separated from the world I had made for myself in college. Too much solitude led to my unbearable loneliness. I tried to sequester this with positivity and Instagram posts, which just postponed my break down by a bit.

At the end of the day, all of us are dealing with loneliness to some degree right now. Let's talk about it. It sucks, plainly said. There is something crippling about loneliness, I won't lie. I miss solitude when it was rare and special to me.

My best advice now to friends who ask me about feeling lonely is to go outside.

While running errands, take note of the people around you, and feel part of society again. Feel part of something bigger than yourself. Quarantine and then meet up with your friends. Put in the effort to meet up, with masks. See people in person, though it doesn't need to be up close. Have them near you, even if six feet away. There's nothing more human than this physical presence. We all need it, and it can make a big difference, even when we're six feet apart.