For the longest time, when I was growing up, I spent the better portion of my existence in solitude. For me it was a safe haven though, it gave me peace of mind that most people wouldn’t be able to understand. I didn’t really like hanging out with people, mainly because they disgusted me and made me ill. How else would one to expect a child who has seen the underbelly of hell only to realize it was their own friends that created this chasm of despair? Life is especially hard on people who end up surrounded by fake friends and personalities. Solitude can be ones savior and help them focus on the more important things in life.
In some cases, solitude isn’t that great. Many would argue that solitude is horrible, in fact. So much that it would be surprising, really. I’ve heard people describe solitude the same way I describe depression, a dark and never ending pit that just makes one feel worthless and void of any form of happiness. Those who see solitude in such a dark light have never been thrust into the life of a person truly battling depression who finds solace in solitude. I’ve often found that I do my best thinking and my best writing when in a state of solitude, listening to music to drown out my surroundings should there be noise in the vicinity. Solitude can strengthen ones resolve, and it can break a persons world.
For me, solitude is my solace.