Atlas, don't hit the bong.

There is beauty and an unconventional charm to solitude. Often times, we are extremely engrossed by our phones, notifications, emails, headlines, et cetera. We are flooded with a constant stream of stimulation, enough to mimic maybe the dopamine surge of a dope addict. Truly, we are so overwhelmed by all that’s going on in our lives that we have been rendered unable to coexist with the little nosy thing that lives in our head; Our thoughts and emotions we must suppress, everything we feel that we are unable to deal with. We run, we hide from the sole idea of existing by ourselves, with our consciousness. Up until recently, I was like that. If I was without anything to do, I would open Instagram, or Twitter. I mean, two years ago, when I first came to college, I uninstalled TikTok on a whim, only for Instagram to deploy the reels function. Even when studying, the need to have something such as music running in the background as if it helps me retain information any better… (newsflash, it does not!)

It’s spring break – I’m alone in my dorm apart from a few acquaintances. My roommates have gone back to their families for the week. I have hung out with one of them who has frequented the dorm and another international buddy who is staying behind for the week. So I am not alone in the sense of being lonely and not having anyone to talk to or confide in I’d say. Plus, in the age of online communications and video games, that’s also not the case. Earlier today, I had lunch with someone and talked with the custodian of my dorm. I have a personal project to work on as well, on my laptop -currently working on some coding ideas. As I’m writing this, the sounds of cars and birds chirping play into the silent and static room and to be honest, I can hardly remember the last time I was able to hear my own thoughts clearly with such a pristine flow. It’s silent for once, with not even an echo. My heart is not heavy with the mistakes I’ve done in the past or embarrassing moments I’ve had. I have worries regarding my parents’ well-being but would I be helping them if I was tearing myself apart with stress and adding new worries onto the existing ones?

For once, I enjoy sitting in the silence, listening to the road and the gravel.

For once, she talks to me and I listen -without layers of stream of consciousness creating a rumbling sound, or thought pollution.

It is rare, but for once it happened. Yes, maybe I have a privilege to do so, and I cannot deny. I have the time, energy, and resources to sit in silence for five minutes, just focusing on the air that I breathe (don’t sue my The Hollies) and the crisp dry paper I write on.

However, I must note that most of our struggles, our Atlesian burden, come from the system we live in, that we must grind tooth and nail to live in. When it is difficult for people to even take a five-minute break without a burdened, worrisome mind, of course, people need to outsource their comfort just for a few minutes of bliss -no matter how self-sabotaging or harmful that mean of recreation is. Social media, alcohol, drugs, all the extremities to find release… We are brought up to societies that cannot teach us how to grab the bull by its horns. We can only learn how to evade it in such limited time we have, or suppress it, under the pretense of a helpless cycle. For we can only feel that the shit-storm state that the world that we live in induces a notion of nihilism or something of ‘The End’.