𝖁𝖊𝖓𝖚𝖘𝖎𝖆𝖓𝕵𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖑

Sitting in silence, self-reflecting without disruption, curating blog posts, dancing for hours, or gradually sipping tea as it cools—these small moments of solitude are my lore. They always have been. Growing up as an only child, I spent a lot of time in my own world, whether by choice or consequence. Solitude was both my sanctuary and my punishment. There were times when being alone felt like exclusion, like proof that I wasn’t fun enough or that my presence wasn’t desired. Moments like discovering I wasn’t invited to a so-called friend’s party, despite believing we were close, used to sting. But in hindsight, those experiences weren’t betrayals; they were redirections, reminders that I was giving pedestal-level loyalty to people who hadn’t earned it.

Over the years, I’ve built friendships, celebrated others, and extended kindness even when it wasn’t reciprocated. I wanted to create the community I lacked, but I’ve come to understand that you can’t force closeness ; true connection isn’t about convenience. It’s about intention. And often, people assume I don’t need or deserve that level of intention because of how beautiful I make my life look. But assuming that someone doesn’t need what they’ve openly expressed is a quiet cruelty. I used to take it personally when people ignored my messages, disregarded my voice notes, or dismissed my presence. But the truth is, none of that was life or death.

Maturing is realizing that as an only child, or even just as a person navigating life, resilience within your personal space is non-negotiable. Mourning people who were never meant to stay is a disservice to the life I’m meant to live. And lately, I’ve been intentionally living , not just existing in nostalgia, not just hoping for people to show up in ways they never have. Instead of romanticizing what could have been, I’m embracing what is.

One of the ways I’ve been doing this is through art.

I’ve always been captivated by the way you can create something out of nothing. Art has been my grounding force since childhood—since the moment my mom’s former coworker gifted me brushes, paint, and canvases at the young age of 7. I poured myself into this newfound hobby, and I even went on to display my work in school exhibits, guided by my amazing art teachers who saw something in me that I’m still uncovering. Now, as an adult, I wonder what brought them to art. Was it an escape? A calling? A quiet rebellion against the weight of life?

Art is one of the rare things that is beautiful yet silent. It doesn’t demand, it doesn’t require constant commentary ; it just is. That’s why museums have become sacred spaces for me. Long walks through exhibits are one of the few times in life when I don’t have to rush or perform. I can just exist. There’s no expectation of me, no need to explain or justify my feelings. The art speaks, and I listen.

Recently, I’ve been spending time in my fiancé’s neighborhood in Brooklyn, and I finally decided to take myself on a solo date to the Brooklyn Museum. Growing up in the Bronx, Brooklyn always felt like the other side of the world ; too far & too unfamiliar. But in this pursuit of happiness, I’m done playing it safe. I’ve recently been craving a solo vacation which is the final boss of only childhood, but my partner worries about my safety when I’m thousands of miles away.

Despite my inner child wanting to just disappear to an island and spend ample hours on the beach connecting with the ocean, I’m thankful I have a partner that REFUSES to let me live life alone. He’s thee only person on earth that feels for me deeply, through my happiness and my sorrows and sometimes I just want to fix myself for me. But I know that’s not realistic so I try to embrace his love even if it feels limiting within the moment. I know the intention is for me to not wallow in my thoughts and sadness, because on most days, I do.

Sometimes it can feel like a blessing and a curse because he has amazing friends that are more than willing to travel with him at any given time. I don’t envy that, I actually admire that he has that luxury. As for me, things are a bit different. Not only because they can’t, but I don’t always feel connected to others to take that leap of faith. So, for now, I’ve chosen the local route instead, exploring what’s within reach while still honoring my need for solitude.

I was feeling heavy today, carrying the weight of immense loss. The loss of family, friendships, and the false sense of security that came with them. There was a time when I convinced myself they were my support system, but my ideal never matched my reality. So, I’m learning to sit with that truth instead of mourning dreams that never came to fruition.

Even when I’m sad.

Even when I want to give up.

Even when life doesn’t feel worth the effort.

Art always brings me back.

It reminds me that people before me have lived through their own storms, yet still, they created. They left pieces of themselves behind brushstrokes, sculptures, sketches inviting complete strangers into their world without the weight of words or trauma dumping. Art is proof that life continues. It’s an all-inclusive experience, a full-body immersion into feeling without expectation.

So yes, I still dream of solo vacations. Not because I don’t have friends, but because I genuinely love my own company. Until then, I’ll continue to seek beauty where I stand.

Redirection is protection. And this chapter of my life, It belongs to me.