Together Yet Alone
Here is another update from my trip. In this post, I want to talk about a very specific kind of isolation: the loneliness of being completely surrounded by people, yet feeling utterly alone.
As you might know, I am on this trip with my two undergraduate roommates. They are wonderful, intelligent, fantastic people who light up my world, and I am deeply grateful to have them in my life.
That being said, they are also cousins.
They grew up together, share the same memories, and have a close-knit, supportive family that showers them with love. I admire the foundation they have, and if I’m being honest, I am a little jealous of it.
Because they are family, a strange sort of loneliness creeps in for me. I’ve felt it while living together, but it feels especially intense on vacation. They share inside jokes I don’t get, bond over childhood TV shows, and reminisce about theme park trips they took years ago.
At the airport, both of their mothers dropped us off, hugging them goodbye while I stood to the side, feeling like an outsider intruding on a private moment. Waiting for our flight out of Orlando, the two of them were engrossed in pop-culture trivia on a shared screen, each wearing one AirPod. They’d glance over occasionally to check on me, but quickly returned to their shared world. I sit in group chats with them and their family, reading messages that don’t quite apply to me.
I am surrounded by my best friends, yet I feel isolated. I knew this dynamic existed when we moved in together, but I didn’t expect the feeling to hit this hard.
Then again, this feels like a recurring theme in my life story. I have often been surrounded by people while feeling completely alone. Cousins or not, it leaves me wondering: is the problem me?
Loneliness has a way of making you feel crazy. One moment you are fine, and the next, anxiety rushes in, making you second-guess every word and action. You fall silent, and people wonder why you suddenly stopped communicating. But the internal noise is too loud. The thoughts convince you that anything you say will only make things awkward:
Be quiet.
Stop talking.
No one wants to hear you.
Shush.
Quiet.
The spiral drags you deeper into isolation.
I know this sounds dark, but the goal of writing this isn’t despair. It’s to remind anyone reading this that if you experience this kind of loneliness, you aren’t crazy, and you aren’t the only one.
It is possible to be in a room full of people and still feel disconnected. Throughout my life, I’ve often felt surrounded by people who seemed to know exactly who they were, while I was still figuring myself out. I’ve been around people who were content and grounded while I was navigating stress, depression, and anxiety.
What I am learning is that one way to bridge this gap isn’t to shrink or change who I am, but to actively practice presence. It means learning about the people around you, noticing their struggles, and appreciating them fully in the present moment.
I’m still working through this. But I found that on this trip, when I chose to pour love into my friends and focus on being truly present with them, the loneliness softened, and made room for real joy.