In my most recent binged show, a director was asked, “why do you come to your empty office everyday?”



It was his response that oddly stuck out to me:

“It’s because I don’t like being alone…”



It was my first time realizing one could simply go out into the world to attempt to fill the empty, lonely parts of themselves. Since childhood, I only remember ignoring the gaping hole in my chest, and wearing it like a necklace. The void is all I’ve known and have naively accepted it as normality.



However, as I grow older, I become increasingly all too aware of its weight. I'm left in my room to hopelessly scratch away at the numbness, only making it bigger. I’ve gotten all too used to it swallowing me whole.



Perhaps that is why his comment struck me so profoundly. The director had a place to go during his loneliest of hours. Do I? Other than the dark corners of isolation?



It is now my epiphany that I must venture and find such a place of warmth or die frozen in my comfort.