Learning the Rhythm of Solitude
How many people surround you each day? You remember new names, share a few moments with some, and then they quietly fade away. A few remain, long enough to shape your life in subtle ways. Relationships flow like a current — always shifting, never still.
Everyone carries a different rhythm. Some thrive in the company of many, while others, like me, find peace in being alone.
I often sit at my desk in silence, following my thoughts wherever they go. Time slows. Even the ticking of the clock disappears. When I’m deeply immersed in something, the world around me fades, and I feel a quiet kind of joy — a happiness deeper than any conversation or gathering can give. Solitude, to me, is not rest. It is what keeps me alive.
The Rhythm of Relationships — and the Stillness Within
It’s not that I avoid people. I simply have my own rhythm. When that rhythm is disturbed, my mind feels heavy.
I used to meet friends or colleagues for dinner, telling myself, this is what social life means. Maybe there was a small sense of duty hidden beneath that thought — a quiet obligation to stay connected.
But over time, that sense of duty faded. Now, meeting an old friend who visits from abroad feels more than enough.
It may sound strange, but I find comfort in that simplicity. Even when someone says, “You should go out more,” I no longer feel guilty.
Happiness doesn’t depend on how many people surround you. For me, what matters is depth, not number. A Day spent in quiet focus gives me more meaning than hours of empty conversation.
Between Newness and Calm
This year, I met more new people than in the last several years combined — through work, through chance, through endless messages that fill my phone. New connections bring excitement. They bring discovery and curiosity.
Yet, if I’m honest, I often miss the quiet. The more people I meet, the less space I seem to have between me and myself.
It’s as if every new connection slightly narrows that distance — the space where I usually breathe and think freely.
The Moment of Looking at the Sea — Distant, yet connected.
A man in a striped shirt stands quietly on a balcony, gazing out at the sea. The palm tree, the blue water, and the pink frame together create a serene yet vivid scene. It doesn’t speak of loneliness but of a peaceful connection — a moment suspended between the self and the world, where solitude turns into balance.
The Happy Hikikomori
You may have heard the term “hikikomori.” In Japan, it refers to people who withdraw from society, isolating themselves inside their homes. The word often carries a negative tone — one of avoidance or social failure.
But I see it differently.
I am not a troubled hikikomori — I am a happy hikikomori.
A happy hikikomori is someone who chooses solitude without fear or shame; someone who finds satisfaction, creativity, and growth in the quietness of being alone.
What is a “Happy Hikikomori”? It refers to a new sense of self—one that chooses solitude not out of fear or failure, but as a conscious act of freedom. A Happy Hikikomori is someone who finds deep satisfaction, happiness, creativity, and personal growth in time spent alone, free from external standards or others’ expectations. This state of being is distinct from loneliness or isolation; it is rooted in self-care, mental richness, independent thought, creative expression, and respect for personal taste. It transcends the negative image of “withdrawal” or “seclusion,” emphasizing solitude as a deliberate, fulfilling way of life.
It’s not disconnection but a form of care. Not loneliness, but freedom.
When I am alone, I feel richer, not smaller. My thoughts settle; my mind becomes clear. Taking distance from the world isn’t abandoning it — it’s pausing to prepare for a more genuine return.
Solitude as a Way of Keeping Myself Whole
To those who also cherish their time alone — you don’t have to measure your life by social standards or others’ expectations. Respecting your own way of being happy leads to a deeper, freer life.
Solitude makes me more myself. To some, it may look like loneliness; to me, it’s another name for freedom. The calm of being alone restores my balance and helps me see the world more clearly.
People often misunderstand solitude. They ask, “Why are you always alone?” or “Don’t you want to be with others?” But solitude is not isolation. It’s a choice.
When I am absorbed in my own time, I see my heart more clearly than ever. And in that quiet space, I slowly grow stronger.
The Moment of Stepping Outside — Returning to the world, from stillness to light.
From the shadowed interior, an open door reveals a vivid, sunlit landscape. A lone figure walks toward out, bridging the quiet of the room and the brightness beyond. The contrast between darkness and color symbolizes renewal — the movement from solitude to reconnection, from introspection to a balanced life in motion.
Alone, and at Peace
The comfort and joy of being alone are hard to explain. Only a few truly understand it. Social standards and outside expectations may shift, but a life that satisfies the self is absolute.
Choosing solitude doesn’t mean lack — it means fullness. To say, “I’m happy being alone,” is not withdrawal; it’s affirmation.
It’s the kind of confidence that gently sustains you.
When you value your own happiness more than anyone’s expectations, that’s when the noise of uncertainty fades. Because happiness, after all, begins with you.
Lightly, yet deeply.
And today, I am happy — simply because I am alone.
Walking Toward Myself — Freedom in stillness.
Beyond the dark arches, a figure walks toward a sunlit garden filled with colorful spheres. Each sphere feels like a fragment of thought or emotion, scattered yet harmonious. The figure’s red attire suggests vitality — a quiet confidence found at the end of solitude, where self-awareness turns into gentle freedom.
