Plates slam onto the kitchen island as my best friend prepares dinner in her house where her parents, two younger sisters, grandpa, and the term “chaos” reside. While eating together, her mother jumps out of the red leather high-top seat exclaiming, “We must play Monopoly!” Promptly, we pull out the board and organize the paper money. Grabbing my silver dog token, the game begins, and I am consumed by the laughter and loudness in the room.

“This is hilarious because I don’t even live with enough family to play an ideal game of Monopoly!” I exclaim.

Sure, I got a good chuckle from her family, but deep down, it stung knowing that my night of fun was someone else’s lifestyle. In the end, my best friend has her sisters. But what about me? I felt overwhelmed with loneliness in a room full of people.
6 lb, 19-inch little bundle of joy; the miracle baby to two newly middle-aged, Albanian immigrant parents. Most of my childhood was spent taking sunset strolls with my parents on the Roosevelt beach boardwalk in Staten Island, NY. I was the center of their world. Despite their love, my feeling of loneliness grew. There was a longing for a peer who could relate to my
experiences and struggles. Loneliness became a space for me where the world feels like it is behind a one-way mirror, and I am on the other side, unable to see a peer who understands me. Loneliness isolates me. Amidst the loneliness, I have found mixed blessings. For example, in the fifth grade, my childhood friend moved 500 miles away to Toronto, Canada, forcing me to acknowledge my loneliness. Her departure left me with plenty of free time on my hands, and I found myself plucking out notes on the piano and writing the lyrics to my first of many songs, “To My Best Friend” (very creative, I know). My music became a placeholder until she could come to visit. It turns out, the song was not half bad; I performed it at a theater in Staten Island. My undesired separation from society bred my creativity and motivation for my musical career as I continued writing music about friends and family.

In fact, I believe my most valuable trait, sociability, is rooted in my struggle with loneliness. It has driven me to try more extracurricular activities–ranging from sports like figure skating and flag football, to learning musical instruments like piano and guitar–in hopes to meet new peers.

My eagerness to socialize has helped me create opportunities to make sure other people don’t feel lonely. I organize an outing to Boston at least once a month with my friends in order to better appreciate each other and keep in touch; my friends always say, “If Kristina doesn’t plan, there’s no plan.” I can also often be found giving school tours to the new students at my school and giving the student body a voice as a grade representative.

Growing up, I recall The Godfather playing on a loop in the tiny, yellow-walled apartment in Staten Island as it is my mother’s favorite movie series. After years, the movie’s famous phrase, “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer” clings to the back of my mind. In a way, loneliness has always been my enemy, but in time, it has become my best friend, too. If I did not carry both the gloomy and uplifting feelings on my sleeve, I would not be me.

Photo by Joshua Hoehne on Unsplash