I read somewhere that loneliness sometimes turns into a lump in the throat, tears in the eyes, and a sigh on the lips

Loneliness is hard. When there’s no one to pour water on the flames of your sorrow, when there’s no one to comfort you, or when there’s no one you can lean on as pain invades and you feel overwhelmed by your troubles.

Loneliness is always difficult, and humans have often endured such solitude.

But in the depths of this loneliness, when there’s no one left, no refuge, no trust, you sense something closer to you than your own soul in your body.

It listens, understands, sees, and accompanies you. It’s enough to call out, and it will hear and respond.

That’s where no formalities are needed, no procedures. It’s simpler than at any other place or time to speak—to talk about the tangled knots of life and the pains that only it can heal, about separation and reunion.

It’s here that you find peace, because it’s a companion like no other.

Be friends with it, but don’t place all your burdens on its shoulders. Be friends with it, but don’t see it as indebted to you. Know that it wants no harm for you. Be friends with it, and try to stand on your own feet.