Follow Up to The Saddest Thing I've Ever Written

Being alone means not having anyone to call when your flight gets delayed. It means not knowing who to list as an emergency contact. Being alone means quiet Saturday nights, with Foxtel and fluffy pillows. Being alone is being at peace.

Independence is making your way around the city. It’s getting to where you need to go, when you need to get there, on your own. Independence is paying all of your bills and student loans.

Being alone is going to the movies by yourself, and buying yourself a beer. Being alone is drinking alone.

Independence is knowing what you want, and going for it—despite what others think. It’s being in a foreign country, with no family or friends, with a support circle that begins and ends with you. Independence is toughening the fuck up.

Being alone is not knowing where you’ll spend Christmas, or if anyone will call on your birthday. It’s having a few select people on your “people I trust” list, and knowing that no matter what, you can count on them. Being alone is accepting your list.

Independence is setting goals for yourself, and being selfish enough to allow yourself the capacity to achieve them. Independence is hours upon hours of “me” time, and appreciating every moment. Independence is bliss.

Being alone is a glass of white wine, a terrible movie and a really, really big couch. Being alone is sometimes, but not always, lonely.

Independence is believing in yourself. It’s knowing that once you figure out what you want to do, all you have to do is do it. Independence is worth it.