佚名/Anonymous
It scares us more than anything except death—being alone.
Our fear of aloneness is so ingrained that given the choice of being by ourselves or being with others we opt for safety in numbers, even at the expense of lingering in painful, boring, or totally unredeeming company.
And yet more of us than ever are alone.
While many Americans have their solo lifestyles thrust on them—people die, people go away—a huge and growing population is choosing to be alone.
In 1955, one in ten U.S. households consisted of one person. By 1999, the proportion was one in three. Single men and women accounted for 38.9 million of the nation's 110.5 million households. By 1999, single parents with children under the age of eighteen made up 27.3 percent of the nation's 70.9 million family households. Meanwhile, many more Americans are divorcing. In less than three decades, the number of divorced men and women has more than quadrupled—to a total of 18.3 million in 1996, compared to 4.3 million in 1970.Never before in American history has living alone been the predominant lifestyle.
Nonetheless, we persist in the conviction that a solitary existence is the harshest penalty life can mete out. We loathe being alone—anytime, anywhere, for whatever reason. From childhood we're conditioned to accept that when alone we instinctively ache for company, that loners are outsiders yearning to get in rather than people who are content with their own company.
Alone, we squander life by rejecting its full potential and wasting its remaining promises. Alone, we accept that experiences unshared are barely worthwhile, that sunsets viewed singly are not as spectacular, that time spent apart is fallow and pointless.
And so we grow old believing we are nothing by ourselves, steadfastly shunning the opportunities for self-discovery and personal growth that solitude could bring us.
We have even coined a word for those who prefer to be by themselves: antisocial, as if they were enemies of society. They are viewed as friendless, suspect in a world that goes around in twos or more and is wary of solitary travelers.