Ioche

Imagine how much courage it must take to come into this world all by yourself. It’s almost like being tossed overboard. Nine months you spent in a state of symbiosis, lulled by the steady rhythm of the only home you’ve ever known—but then suddenly, at the moment of birth, you find yourself adrift in the open ocean, fighting to catch your breath, with nothing stable to hold on to. You’re never very far away from another body, but now it’s another body, that could come and go at any given moment. For the first time, the realization hits: you’re on your own.

You never really get used to the feeling of being an individual. How strange it is that you’re born alone and die alone. That you alone must carry your own body, and your own name. Nobody else can feel the pain you feel, or hear the ringing in your ears, or will ever be able to share an unforgettable dream. You alone manage this particular storehouse of memories, being the only one to remember certain things, or the only one to forget.

How strange it is that your life is the only one populated by this particular cast of characters. Strange to find yourself floating in a sea of swirling billions, only a few of whom you’ll ever get a chance to know and trust. Which leaves you in a state of perpetual tension. You can follow the crowd for a while, but you’ll never quite be able to relax, having to watch out in case they suddenly shift course or whip themselves up into groupthink. You’re free to break out on your own, but you’ll never feel all that free: as the sole protector and navigator, you’ll find yourself perpetually looking over your shoulder, wondering if there’s a good reason this particular road is the one less traveled. Strange that no matter how predictable your life is, nobody in history has ever lived it before. Strange to think that your concerns are your business and yours alone.

But strangest of all are those moments when you can almost transcend your singular nature, and feel yourself connecting with another human being. To be swept up by a choir, letting your bones melt into the vibration of a certain chord, thrumming in tune with a thousand other voices. To sit up with a friend all night talking freely and openly, never doubting that you’re being heard, never having to wonder if you’re being misunderstood. To fall into the swell of a shared ecstasy—coming achingly close to finding pleasure in another’s pleasure.

Of course eventually the song ends and the sun rises, and we all carry on our own separate lives. And at the end of it, you may find yourself feeling all the more disconnected. Such is the curse of being an individual.

You may never get comfortable living life on your own. Maybe you’ll never get over the initial shock of existing at all, and will spend your life as a perpetual newcomer, still trying to catch your breath, right until the last. But know that at the very least, you’re in good company. Ask any one of us, and we’ll tell you: you’re not alone.