"Hell is other people". So said Jean-Paul Sartre. At times, I couldn't agree more. When I first moved to Boston, I was thrilled by the prospect of living in a town where I knew no one. Being completely on my own led me to encounter individuals and seek out experiences that I wouldn't have otherwise. I didn't have to go out on a Friday night if I didn't want to, and if I did, I could go wherever I pleased. The city was mine to discover and behold.
After clinging so fiercely to my precious solitude, I've grown to despise it. It doesn't quite suit me, and my personality has done everything in its power to shake it. I find that I've been talking to almost everyone- the guy at my convenience store, my fellow morning metro commuters, bus drivers- even myself, which is not a little bit scary.
I had a professor in college who once told us that "the meaning of life is human relations." Now more than ever does that statement make sense. Most things in life can only have instrumental value- without friends to share them with, they're simply meaningless.
