Your Best Friend Feels Alone

In a world teeming with over 8 billion people, why do so many of us feel profoundly alone? Your best friend in all the world - even though you are as close to them as to anyone you’ve perhaps ever known - they often feel alone. You know this, because you, too, feel alone sometimes. We find ourselves isolated within the very crowds we inhabit, separated by invisible barriers of our own making.

The root of this isolation often lies in our inherent vulnerability. From an early age, we learn that openness can lead to pain. A confidence betrayed, a trust broken, or a heart shattered - these experiences teach us to guard ourselves, to build walls around our true selves. We craft personas, carefully curated versions of who we are, designed to protect us from hurt but ultimately keeping us at arm’s length from others.

Fear also plays significant role in our reluctance to be open. We fear judgment, rejection, and the potential loss of control that comes with true vulnerability. In a society that often values strength and independence, admitting our need for connection can feel like weakness. So we soldier on, pretending to be islands unto ourselves, all the while yearning for the very thing we push away.

C.S.Lewis once said: “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.”

Our modern world, with its emphasis on digital communication, exacerbates this problem. We substitute likes and comments for genuine interaction, allowing surface-level engagement to substitue for depth. The ease of curating our online presence allows us to present idealized versions of ourselves, further widening the gap between our true selves and the image we project to the world. It seems at times we can do this - we can even come to believe this version of ourselves.

But Lewis warns against this superficiality; he went on to say: “But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, your heart will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

We are, at our core, social creatures. Our very survival as a species has depended on our ability to form bonds, to work together, to understand and be understood by others. This fundamental need doesn’t disappear simply because we’ve learned to fear it.

The truth is, the effort to connect with one another is perhaps the most important work we can do in our lives. It is through genuine connection that we find meaning, purpose, and joy. When we dare to be vulnerable, to love, to show our true selves to another person and be accepted, we experience a profound sense of belonging that nothing else can replicate.

Bridging the gap between ourselves and others requires courage. It demands that we risk rejection, that we face our fears head-on. But the potential rewards are immeasurable. By opening ourselves up to others, we not only enrich our own lives but also create the possibility for deeper, more meaningful relationships across society as a whole.

When we practice metta, or loving-kindness meditaiton, we start by offering love to ourselves - by wishing that our own self be safe, happy, and free from fear. Only then do we start to offer the same love to others.

The path to connection begins with small steps. It might start with a genuine conversation, where we share not just the highlights of our lives but also our struggles and doubts. It could be in the act of asking for help when we need it, admitting that we don’t have all the answers. Or it might be in offering support to someone else, creating a safe space for them to be vulnerable in turn.

Even if, like me, you find it hard to express the love you feel, you can start with kindness. In the end, kindness is the practical action, and action is what ultimately counts in this world.