Some months back, I decided on a brief move from my city to a neighbouring region for a quick training that will last for a little over a year.
I had done a lot of calculations bothering on money, time and everything that could possibly go wrong prior to moving, but I did not factor in loneliness.
I didn't see the need for it and I bet many people don't too.
In fact, it never occurred to me that I could be lonely.
I pride myself in my solitude.
I could be by myself week-long without contact with anybody.
"I would be fine if I have my phone and a working internet connection", I usually tell myself.
Recent events have proven this to be a huge fallacy.
I was barely a week here when I started feeling funny. I couldn't place what the issue was . I was enveloped in a feeling that I can't put words to. It felt like there was a huge hole inside of me longing to be filled. I felt empty and uneasy.
I chalked it up to the change in environment .
My former city was boisterous and colorful. It was razz and frenzied.
It was old, modern and and prestigious . It was the past and the future fused together. And there was always somewhere to go.
If you run out of places to go, you could just sit back and watch one or two drama unfold among passerbys from your balcony : a husband and wife would soon start a free public show or if you're lucky , the road transport union worker sludging it out with a commercial driver..
The noise and chaos was all I knew and I had subconsciously became an extension of it.
This little town is the opposite of it.
Sandy , wild and green with endless stretches of forests and peace, I can understand why I ran into trouble keeping my mind sane.
I could walk for 5miles without meeting more than 5people . Voices and echo from several villages away breeze to my ears without me listening.
Everything was strange.
To create an equilibrium between the silence and the much needed noise, I went around blasting music in my MP3 player with hope to simulate the ideal Babel and feel at home a bit.
Did it work?
It made me look like a sewing needle in a plumbing shop. All eyes were on the odd ball.
I began to go for walks in the evening to meet people and calm my nerves ; that became my temporary therapy.
It worked for sometime and lost its efficacy.
There was this look in the locals' eyes that I couldn't pinpoint : It looked like distrust and looked like fear. But I don't know which.
To save my head and save them the trouble , I stayed away from my usual walk paths .(they must have been looking around for the irritant) .
With a silence so loud, I was constantly on the lookout for what to do. I feared running mad if I didn't find any.
Then, I discovered read.cash.
A space where I could earn BTC for running from loneliness and boredom.
Now this place I had hugely despised has turned a goldmine for huge resource and stories. I've been typing and clicking away ever since.
It's now a choice between this space and loneliness. A choice between redundancy and creativity.
Creativity will prevail.
Maybe it's time to finally learn how to really write.