LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 1: Be Alone. Lose yourself!
The author's journey is the focus of Chapters 1 through 5, while the story's plot begins in Chapter 6.
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Humans are social creatures—or so they say. But not everyone gets to experience companionship. Not everyone gets to have friends. Not everyone gets to feel parental love, romantic love, or even platonic love. What happens when a social creature is stripped of everything that involves socializing?
First, he craves. He does anything within his capabilities to form bonds and connections. He fumbles, then tries again. Then again... and again... until desperation turns into a cruel routine. He stops, watches, and mimics how others connect, only to fail, again and again. Envy follows. A sharp, unbearable envy. Watching others laugh, touch, and love feels like staring into the sun while trapped in the shadows, leaving a searing ache behind his ribs.
Days blur into weeks. Weeks into months. Months into years. Then comes acceptance. Humans are social creatures—they're not meant to be alone. But when forced into a corner for long enough, he adapts. He must.
There are two forms of acceptance.
The first leaves him hollow. It shreds his self-image, corrodes his confidence, and drains any value he once held in himself. He becomes desperate for the smallest sliver of acknowledgment—a glance, a word, a touch to prove he's still alive. He caves in entirely, and what's left is an empty shell of a person.
He stares into the mirror, his face as hollow as his soul, eyes void of light. His body is marked by deep, jagged cuts, crimson rivers spilling over the white tiles of the bathroom floor. The knife trembles in his hand, its blade slick and glistening. Slowly, he presses it against his chest, above the hollow where his heart should be. Blood drips down his torso in slow, deliberate lines, staining his skin like ribbons of despair.
But in the mirror, his reflection twists. His lips curl into a grotesque grin, a bloodied smirk that betrays his humanity. He is no longer human—no longer a social creature. The emptiness inside has consumed him, reshaping him into something unrecognizable. A man without humanity, without empathy, without need. Voices whisper sweetly in his ears, companions created by his own shattered mind. Hallucinations replace family, friends, and lovers.
The second form of acceptance is far more violent. It leaves nothing behind.
He stands before the mirror, his face pale, his expression void of emotion. Blood flows freely from deep gashes carved across his skin, pooling on the cold black tiles below. The knife in his hand shifts, trembling, before he thrusts it violently into the soft space between his ribs. He coughs, blood spraying against the mirror. The pain is excruciating, searing like fire, but he doesn't stop.
He pulls the knife out with a sickening squelch and plunges it back in, harder this time, his body convulsing with each brutal motion. Blood gushes out in waves, coating the floor, his hands, the walls. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his heartbeat a deafening drum in his ears. He stabs again, and again, and again, until his strength wanes and the knife clatters to the floor.
He collapses, his body writhing in a growing pool of red. His vision blurs, and the world fades into a dark, heavy silence. There is no more pain. No more loneliness. Just peace in the void.
And then he hears the hum of a lawnmower outside.
Reality crashes back. He stands in the same spot, staring into the mirror, his body untouched. His reflection is unscathed, but his expression remains blank, hollow.
I am the embodiment of the second form of acceptance. I can see it all—every detail, every drop of blood, every stab wound. I can feel the blade splitting flesh, the ache of suffocation, the weight of dying over and over. And I do it willingly.
That world exists in my mind alone. My dear friend, loneliness, gave me this gift—the ability to create an alternate reality so vivid, so detailed, that it feels as real as the world I stand in. Imagine craving connection so desperately that you teach your mind to construct a life where everything you've lost is given back to you.
In my world, I am loved. I am whole. I am valued. I have friends who understand me, a family that cherishes me, a partner who holds me close and whispers that I matter. I know it isn't real—I'm not delusional. At least, not yet. But it feels real. I can touch it, live it, breathe it.
In that world, I can be who I've always wanted to be. I can feel her skin against mine, the warmth of her breath, the press of her body. I can taste the salt of her sweat and hear the soft sighs of pleasure. I can love her, hold her, and never let go.
Who needs reality when I can live in my mind? In my world, I matter. In my world, I am complete.
So I urge you: Be alone. Lose yourself in the process. Become me. Only then will you truly understand the art of being alone.