Are We Secretly Struggling with Loneliness While Chasing Dreams? Let’s Chat...

Penned down my feeling you let me know yours in the comment box...

At 26, living in Mumbai was supposed to feel like I’d made it. I’ve got a job in advertising, a cozy apartment, and a city that never slows down. But there’s a side to this life that no one really prepares you for.

Every morning starts the same—my alarm buzzes, pulling me out of another restless sleep. I stumble into the kitchen, make myself some coffee, and gear up for another day in the advertising world. On the outside, it probably looks exciting, like something out of Emily in Paris, where creativity flows effortlessly, and every moment feels like magic. But in my reality, it’s endless meetings, tight deadlines, and a constant hustle. There are no rooftop parties, no spontaneous adventures—just me and the grind. Yet, there's something grounding about the routine. It’s in the quiet moments of solitude that I find clarity. With no distractions, my thoughts are sharper, my creativity deepens, and I realize that being alone isn't something to escape from, but something to embrace.

But by the time the day ends and I walk into my empty apartment, the silence alway hits harder than anything else. There’s no one to ask, “How was your day, Isha?” No one to share a late-night meal with, no comforting presence waiting for me. The city’s energy fades, and all I’m left with is the sound of my own thoughts. It’s moments like these when shows like Call Me Bae come to mind—a reminder of how different real life is from the glossy portrayals. In reality, adulting is messy, tiring, and so often lonely.

Here again the positive side is that in this solitude, I’ve started to realize something. It’s okay to be alone. It’s okay to miss the company but still find a sense of peace in being by myself. Every late night, every quiet moment, is shaping me in ways I didn’t expect. I’m learning that aloneness doesn’t have to mean loneliness. It’s a time to explore my own thoughts, pursue hobbies I had neglected, and truly understand who I am. Maybe one day, all these pieces will come together, and everything will make sense.

Until then, I’m learning to find strength in my own company. Being alone doesn’t mean I’m lost—it just means my story is still being written. And in this city, where millions of stories unfold every day, mine is just beginning.

Now, I wonder—does anyone else feel this way? Do we glamorize independence and city life while silently struggling with loneliness? Is there a balance between chasing dreams and finding the human connection we crave?

Let’s talk about what we don’t always admit—how it feels to live alone in a city full of people, and why that quiet can be both empowering and isolating.