We all belong here.

Loneliness is a dark time for oneself. Detaching from friends, family and their usual hobbies into a space where its them trying to stay afloat, feel included and be themselves again. Most of one’s time in loneliness is spent on phone, avoiding others and the support they can access. The world is more dark, boring and not as enjoyable as it used to be.

Living in between or next to the moment/thing/memories that you once had or wish to have, that can be lonely.
The liminal spaces, the empty locations, the in-between destinations. These often feel the loneliest. They exist in the back of our lives, as memories, as the spots often without others. Fill them with people and they may shift dramatically.
“Alice” can be the one you miss; From movie screens, old love letters, or from old motel childhood first crushes in faraway lands x

During Covid-19, I remember how my 16-year-old self was away from home for the first time, starting high school in a foreign country and doing remotely learning. My homestay family always went out on the weekend while I woke up early and went to the Library to study.

I talked and was invited to join a group of Aussie friends in class who have been together for years. I built some connection and shared about my learning and life in Australia. Some were surprised , some admired the resilience and some acknowledged things may have been heard and I was so brave . I took that as a compliment and felt proud of myself , continuing to go to State Library every day after class till dinner time.

Little did people know, I rarely hang out with those classmates and volunteering and joining youth group at local church made me feel no less lonely. I appreciated the connection, the excitement and novelty of meeting new people, however I recognised some anxiety around making long term friendship in Australia. No one was from my Vietnamese background, spoke the language or invited me over to cook my home dishes. I missed my family and friends in Vietnam but was too proud of my independence to admit my struggles.

Till now, it has been 5 years living here , I have grown so much. However , the loneliness still lingers on the nights when I couldn’t sleep or when I had late night assignments. I convinced myself it was part of student life toward growth and more fulfilment . I was more open to speaking to counsellor and EAP, helping me work toward healthy and grounded mindset in any situation.

Everyday I wake up, I'm met with disappointment.
What once was filled with hopes and aspirations,
are now replaced with dread and emptiness.
Gone are the childhood sparkles of joy and wonder,
leaving just the deep dark closet full of monsters,
the everlasting despair.
I yearn for a hug, a smile, a casual reassurance.
Phone in hand, one text away, yet lightyears from reach.
Too scared to reach out, yet too weak to fight alone.
The brave little knight with the twinkle in his eyes,
grew up to realise he's just a coward,
forced to face the dark,
without a single shield in sight.

When I first moved to Perth to study, the beauty of the city struck me – its vast blue skies, serene sandy beaches, and lush greenery. But I felt that beneath the beauty of the city, there was a sense of isolation. As an international student, I realised that fitting in was not going to be as easy as I had hoped, given that there was a subtle social divide that separated locals and foreigners, thus making forming connections for me difficult.

I guess it was the unfamiliar surroundings and subtle cultural nuances that made me really depressed during the first half of my first semester. So, around the tenth week, I relayed my depressive thoughts to Mia, the elected well-being advisor of the year in my dorm. She invited me to her room and engaged me in a deep conversation for an hour. I vividly remember her telling me to build my space within the subtle cultural gap that she also agreed was prevalent in Perth. She assured me that it was perfectly alright to find peace alone, as stillness often held the answers.

Her words resonated deeply with me. Thus, I decided to embrace the solitude I was facing instead of trying hard to fight it. Through her recommendations, I began taking solo long walks and sit-downs along the paths and benches of Matilda Bay and the Blue House while exploring the city myself. I then started noticing the minor, subtle ways in which connections formed – through shared experiences with other international students in events organised by the University and my dorm, and random conversations in the dining hall of my dorm. Hence, I am eternally grateful to Mia, as through her words, I realised that I could find belonging by building a community not based on force or desperation, but just natural instincts, by being comfortable in my own space and not worrying or caring about possible social divide that could arise.

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