As is the case with most things one desires so solipsistically, however, once I obtained the solitude I sought, I found only disappointment, and sadness, and guilt, and anxiety. Which is to say that I found loneliness.
…moving to the city, I imagined that it would say something about myself, being OK with being alone, as if an appreciation for solitude acts as some kind of evidence that one is stoic, and strong, and confident.
For me and the billions of other tea drinkers out there, tea isn’t a beverage. It isn’t a plant. It’s a bridge that connects us to the person sitting across the table. It’s a salve that we use to self-soothe. It’s a shot of energy, an unspoken promise, an apology, a peace offering.