Confessions at night for the lonely
We all need some company especially when the world falls silent
In the late hours of the night, I would walk around the campus of my university usually with my best friend, sometimes with other friends and sometimes all alone. The calmness that the nighttime brought to me was immeasurable. The nights I kept my best friend awake with me were good, we would walk the same path a hundred times and talk about rubbish and then we would walk to the late-night snacks counter and buy pointless food. We would sneak into her room, while one of her roommates was sound asleep and another one out making her own memories, and we would lie down on her bed and talk. Looking at the white silvery lights that she had messily put up the opposite wall, we would discuss our lives and tell each other things we wouldn’t normally say. When we had come to university, we were both a little wobbly on our feet and were sure that we wouldn’t fraternise with people and keep to ourselves. But the very first day, we crossed paths, sat alongside each other and got to talking. From there to talking about our feelings, we had come a long way.
After COVID, my world was restricted to the two-bedroom house that I lived in. An occasional visit to the garden apart, I was always locked up in my room. In a few days time, the classes started and the realisation settled that nothing can change this. And then began a long hard time processing the fact that I was now caged from where I wanted to fly. Nothing could shake me back to life. I missed the conversations. But mostly I missed the freedom of confessing things I normally wouldn’t and knowing that it would be kept safe. The lights, and the time, it seemed, would take care of the rest.
On nights that I did end up alone, I would walk through the campus wondering what other people are talking about. It seemed like the darkness brought out the reality of people and when I sat on the blue bench facing the football ground- the whole world was silent. I felt that way every night now. The need to be heard, to be talking to someone and to know that when your thoughts come up to consume you, you have someone to bring you back was magical. I sat on my window at night watching the empty roads wishing for someone to talk with.
I found podcasts then. I played a new one every day, I ended up most nights- on True Crimes and Serial Killer stories. It felt like someone was telling me a story, keeping me company so that I don’t fall into the deep chasm I have made in my mind.
But it felt still like something was missing. This is not what I would talk about. The magic of a confession at night was the intimacy it brought. Like you were the only two people in this world who were alive.
That’s how the podcast was born. From the knowledge that I am not alone in feeling the need to have a friend to talk to about my deepest and darkest insecurities. That there are loners who feel all alone and they could have something to turn to so that their mind doesn’t play games on them. The podcast exists because I was alone for most of the last year, isolated and further isolating because it was too hard to digest that my little palace of happiness crumbled so soon. But I had a memory that kept me going- I had a friend and her thoughts to save my nights. I hope you find a friend among these confessions- I hope you feel like you aren’t lonely and I hope you keep these secrets to yourself.