There was a point in my life where I had an enormous amount of time all to myself. It was both sad and satisfying. I think as a result, I've developed acute depression. I used to be chipper, and hyper as hell. Then, I moved out of California, away from the sunshine, to Houston and got stuck with the unbearable humidity in return. I spent 4 months in Houston, recently single, without a car, job or school until I decided I'd had enough. I went to France for a little under 6 months to try to knock some joy into my life.
It was probably the worst feeling ever.
I got to reconnect with some old classmates and relatives, but the only thing I was after was attention. I needed comfort and compassion. I needed to be held. I needed to feel wanted and loved again. It never happened. I ended up falling for the wrong guys that wouldn't give anything in return, or worse- desperately accepting anyone who would.
I came back to Houston the following year, with a chip on my shoulder the size of an iceberg. My whole purpose of trekking out to another country was to experience excitement and adventures. Though I got to pick up the language again and managed to create some lasting friendships, I was not the same person I had been.
I was quieter. I still loved to laugh and make jokes with my family, but over time, I became bitter and more negative. I had (and still have) low self esteem, so I always felt that I was never good enough. For almost two years, my friend in France talked to me every single day via MSN. Being single, he could understand the frustration I was experiencing at the moment.
But I found the time to do my own things. I managed to finish my 2 year degree in record time, and for the first time ever, I wasn't actively looking for a partner. I was happy being single. I repeatedly told myself that if I was involved with someone, I would forget about everything else and push my priorities aside- which I did when I started dating at the beginning of this year.
Being single meant being able to do whatever I wanted, at anytime. Granted that I was still living at home and wasn't able to leave at 10pm for say, a visit to the pub, I still enjoyed the ocasional movie in bed. I started watching various series and reading books I'd purchased without looking. There were no dinners, no trips to the movies, and no one to do special activities with.
In a sense, being single gives you freedom. But being single also gives you solitude, which is dangerous for a person like me. You start to question your entire existence in search of reasoning.
Luckily I've met people along the way, and even though I don't actively spend time with them because they are usually in large groups and I'm rather shy, I still enjoy the ocassional dinner and talk with some of them.