I feel so alone sometimes. Not really lonely, just alone. And when I feel that way, I’m being so unfair to myself. Why? Because I’m anything but alone.
It’s almost 5:00 in the morning as I’m writing this, on the day of my birth, the eleventh of March. I turned twenty-one about five hours ago. Just before that, at about 11:20 at night, on the tenth of March, I suddenly, randomly, got a text from a dear old friend, telling me that she is in a bar in Amsterdam, actually no more than 5 minutes from my house. By 11:40 I was there, I met her friends, at at midnight they all congratulated me. I was supposed to finish some work for a client of mine (if you’re reading this, mea culpa!), but instead I spent the last five hours having fun (and consuming alcohol) with that group of people.
Why am I awake after all of that? A normal person would have thrown their body into bed as soon as they entered their apartment, and took a few winks before even attempting to write anything Medium-worthy after such a night. Well, the reason: in a few hours I’ll be flying to London, not only to have fun there with my Dutch friends who already flew over yesterday, but also to have birthday drinks with some of my London friends later in the day.
Therefore, the only two hours of today that I’ll be spending alone will be the two or three hours between now and when I leave for the airport to catch my flight, together with the friend and business partner that I’ve been working together with for over six years now. So, the next time I feel alone (or, for that matter, lonely), let this post be a reminder of the hypocrite asshole I am for feeling that way. I’m so fortunate to have all of those people in my life! Just like real hunger, I’ve probably actually never experience the feeling of really being alone in this world.
Also, to future (sober) Thomas: happy birthday! Perhaps you might want to delete this post. Or, at the very least, properly check it for grammar and spelling mistakes!