I never thought loneliness could make me happier. But here I am, feeling the pangs of loneliness, verging on tears every two minutes, and happy. It's this week. This week I am longing to be around those people I can sit in a room with and not say a word, but know we're having a conversation. My heart aches thinking about it.
So why the fuck am I happy?
I've always understood the value and importance of the people in my life, but never to this depth. To feel so loved and missed from a place so far away from home is truly beautiful. It means my life means something; that I've touched people.
In the words of Bright Eyes: "I'm happy just because, I found out I am really noone". And that's just it - I am noone in the big scheme of things - noone is. We're all only someone to those who love us.
I'm no celebrity. I haven't found the cure for a disease. I haven't discovered a new land. And I probably won't ever be ridiculously wealthy. But I'm okay with that. Even though I'm noone, I feel like the most adored, intelligent, adventurous and rich person to walk the ground beneath me.
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