We all belong here.

Loneliness is expressed as a feeling of being alone or disconnected from others. For me, loneliness is sometimes being able to be by myself and collect my thoughts. There are times that feeling is a feeling of sadness and not being able to spend time with others due to conflicting schedules.
The outside facade can be colourful but inside it could be darker colours (negative like black). Music can express those emotions.

My feelings of loneliness started when I made the decision to move internationally to complete my undergraduate degree at the age of 17. Being an only child and having lost my father to brain cancer at 13 years old, it was a huge decision that prioritised my desire to balance my athletic and academic career whilst simultaneously overlooking the emotional turmoil that would accompany it. To put things into context, I had been exempted from attending school camps due to severe separation anxiety from my mother and was in the early stages of recovery from an eating disorder that developed from needing some level of control in an unstable world. So, making this transition across the world came with more hurdles that I could have ever pre-empted prior to landing.
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The initial stages were filled with novelty and excitement, but quickly culture shock and the reality of being thousands of miles away from my family, friends, and other members of my support network set in. I cried most days, battling with the long nights and constantly trying to coordinate any form of contact with the time differences that existed between my hometown and my new city in America. While I was part of the track team so had an immediate ‘family’ that I was welcomed into, I felt like I had no one external that could seek for a conversation to share my feelings open and honestly, nor a companion that wouldn’t report concerns of my well-being to my coach. I tried to get by utilising daily facetime calls with my mother however this quickly grew into a routine that failed fill the void of loneliness in an unfamiliar place. I had some good friends on the team, but we were majoring in different subjects, so I spent most of my days in lecture halls with 500 plus people never seeing the same face more than once. I dedicated my spare time to meticulously completing my homework but the feeling of being alone hung over my head like a cloud.
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This pattern of training, university and long periods of study continued until the first case of COVID-19 was detected. While this seem removed from me at the time, the pandemic quickly spread, and the restrictions of social isolation grew more real than the demons in my head. I was physically and emotionally restrained from being with others, which spiralled my mental health severely. Once the realisation set in that I would have no choice but to put myself in a vulnerable situation to make friends as visiting home was off the cards for the indefinite future, I started to make some inroads in broadening my overseas network of friends. By the end of my college degree, I had learned so many new skills, strengthened my personality traits and developed some lifelong friendships that I still hold onto today. However, like all good things they must end and once I had graduated, I had to return home and leave this new group of companions behind.

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It felt like I was starting all over again, my friends back in Australia had moved on since high school and I didn’t feel as though I belonged in any of the groups I was once a part of. Like déjà vu, I was back to feeling lonely and isolated in a once familiar place. This was devastating and really tested my resilience. Like before, I leant on my circle at work to broaden my group of friends, meeting new people and being open to different experiences. Quickly I felt like I was back home again and regained the support and emotionally stability I needed.
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This sense of security remained until I accepted a position interstate to complete my master’s postgraduate studies. I laboured over what the right decision was whether I should get up and move again or stay in a place that was familiar and safe. The thought of loneliness for a third time in such a short span of my life played a huge part in my decision for following the best pathway forward. Financially and careerwise moving to Sydney opened the most opportunities and positioned me favourably to progress in my studies. I thought I would be more prepared, that I had the skills necessary to manage the inevitable loneliness that would accompany the transition, but I didn’t. Each move has been different, associated with its own challenges and trying to tackle life’s hurdles without any form of support heightens normal feelings of isolation substantially. There have been many days I have sat alone, longing for my friends back home. Returning to my apartment after a long day of study, I am greeted with silence and the need to prepare dinner. Walking into my local shopping centre reminds me of the unfamiliarity of the stores. Seeing elderly people out for a morning coffee, gives me an empty sense of missing my grandparents. Even the lack of having a car instils a sense of being trapped and completely alone. While I have made friends and have people around me who I trust and can confide in, I have noticed that loneliness still infiltrates my daily life.

Trapped within a bubble of colours that are mixed; the unnatural purple, the greens of the world, and silver that contrasts the warm glow. The hair is astray like a bird's nest and is standing at wit's end during the journey through the unknown. I can feel the warm glow—that I once had—dispersing into thin air as I give myself and my energy to the world around me. The light surrounds me, but is detached from my body. I can dress however I want. Here, I am dressed with inspiration from Alice as she falls through the rabbit hole. But no matter what I do I still question, "who is me?" and "who am I meant to be?".

I'm alone in my bubble as everyone stares intrusively, flashing the lights of their cameras, expecting me and demanding that I show my cards and my true colours. But how can I, if I myself cannot determine where to next or who I am. I have no hands to take someone else's, to ask for help as I travel through the unknown. I can sense the presence of others around me—others like me—but they are far away in their own bubbles, world, and path, one that is so clear to them. I am surrounded by people, yet so alone, so raw in a place that I lived in my whole life. Now this place feels foreign and empty.

Have you ever walked into a room and felt like you shouldn't be there? Like you are entirely invisible? I often feel that when I know that one part of my life is coming to an end. How can we truly immerse ourselves in a life, in a situation or a group, when we know that in a matter of days, minutes or hours, we will be leaving? Knowing that you're about to move overseas, or change universities, or graduate from your high school, and that you will never be in the same place emotionally or physically again is such a strange feeling. How can we connect with those around us when we feel like we're preparing to grieve our own life? Coming back to Australia after 6 months in England felt like the most isolating thing in the world, it feels like no one understands you. Surrounded by people, but completely alone. When everyone else's lives continue but yours seems frozen in time, how do you stop feeling so alone?

I don’t know how to begin this, but I’ll try my best. For most of my childhood, everything felt normal. I was born in 2007 and lived in India with my uncle and maternal grandparents, whom I lovingly called Mom and Dad. My life was simple, surrounded by the warmth of a family that made me feel safe.

Every year, on my birthday, my biological mother would visit from Melbourne, bringing gifts and surprises. To me, she felt more like a special guest than a parent, someone who came with love and presents, but never stayed long enough to become part of my everyday life. Then came 2020. I was 13, and everything began to change. The once-happy home started to fill with tension. There were constant arguments and stress over things I couldn’t understand.

By 2021, I found out the painful truth: my father had filed a legal case against my grandfather and uncle. All the chaos was over money and property. My mother had decided she would no longer provide financial support, which ignited everything. I learned more than I ever wanted to know about the cracks in my family. My parents had been living in separate countries—my mom in Australia, my dad in a different Indian state, while I was raised by my maternal family.

And then, by mid-2022, my parents finalized their divorce. That period was one of the most difficult times of my life. It wasn’t just about legal battles or financial issues, it was about watching the people I loved break under the weight of betrayal and pain. My mother came to India personally to sign the divorce papers. A few days before she was set to return to Melbourne, everyone decided it would be best for my future if I went with her. But I wasn’t ready. How could I be? I was a child being asked to leave everything I knew, my home, my country, my friends, my school, and the only family I truly felt connected to; to live with someone who, despite being my mother, was practically a stranger. I didn’t have time to process the divorce, the fights, or the idea of leaving.

I had just a week to say goodbye to everything and everyone. I packed my belongings, but I couldn’t pack the memories. If it didn’t fit in the suitcase, it felt like I had to forget it, maybe forever. The emotional toll was unbearable. I cried in secret, locked away in the toilet, sometimes three times a day, overcome by fear and confusion. Learning the truth about my father was another shock that made me feel even more lost.

When I moved to Melbourne, it felt like I had been ripped out of my world. I had hallucinations and dreams of my family back home. The emptiness inside me was overwhelming. I had never even changed schools before, and now I had changed countries. Everything was unfamiliar, the culture, the language, the people. The first six months were hell. School offered little support, and cultural differences made it hard to make friends. I had no real support system, and my relationship with my mother was distant.

I was alone in every sense of the word. But somehow, I made it through. I focused on my studies, even though my heart was still stuck in the past. Year 11 and 12 were emotionally draining. I constantly thought about going back. I wanted to return to the life I knew, to the people I loved. Eventually, I decided to stay, not because I felt at home, but because everyone believed it was better for my future. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made. Loneliness became a silent companion through it all. But so did resilience. I still miss my family and i know they miss me too, and my only dream is that one day we all are together again, it doesn’t matter where as long as we are together.

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