We all belong here.

Loneliness means a lot of things to me. It means leaving — my family, my friends; it means exploration — when I have more time and energy to understand my feelings; it means boundaries — when I learn to know that there are lots of people I need to always keep a boundary with them when staying together; it means getting to know that there are so many things I can do with myself.

One of the most challenging transitions I have experienced has been adjusting to life with a chronic illness. I felt incredibly isolated from others due to not being able to engage in the outside world in the same way that I used to. The grief I was experiencing caused me to isolate myself further, rather than reach out to others. I didn’t know how to navigate the feelings of loneliness that came with this – it was tempting to suppress them, rather than feel them. I started using music to confront them – I found comfort in connecting to an artist expressing similar feelings to mine. A song that I loved, and love to this day, is ‘It’s Okay to Cry’ by SOPHIE.

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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Back then daydreams of a more exciting life - one full of laughter, freedom and joy - consumed me. I’d imagine friends with names and personalities so real it made me question my own sanity. I felt shame, guilt and embarrassment for attempting to make up a hole in my heart through fictional characters. Yet, it was those still and quiet nights that helped me gather the courage to make my imaginations into reality. Now, I find that those “friends” in my dreams silently cheer me on every time I surround myself with real people who truly love me. I realise now that they like fireflies guiding me back home through their light :)

Here is my visual art which I created for Menzies Foundation. It is entitled the Power of One. It depicts loneliness in a positive light by enabling us to see the world afresh (as symbolised by the sunrise) and free from the physical distraction as symbolised by the detachment of the head from the body.