A common fear in modern day society is isolationism. We emphasize the importance of maintaining a social life, influenced to search for your desired "clique" the second you step into high school or college. People need people, and that's okay. There is nothing wrong with social interaction, for it is an essential part of the human experience.

The issue arises when we forget how to be comfortable with being by ourselves in our own skin. No friends getting lunch with you, no significant other holding your hand as you take a walk around the block. When we are inevitably by ourselves, whether it's at the end of the night after a long party, or when your romantic relationship comes to the end, that loneliness is not only frightening, but indeed often crippling.

For a long time in my life, I actually took comfort in being by myself. I enjoyed visiting my local coffee shop and relishing in the luxury of being alone (as well as the luxury of the sweet scent of a delicious soy chai latte). Of course, I made the mistake of inviting my boyfriend to these coffee shops with me. I figured that, since I adored the experience so fondly when I was alone, the pleasure would only increase with his company.

As almost all young love stories do, the tale came to an end. For weeks, I forced myself to hang out with family or friends just to keep my mind occupied. I was in an uncomfortable stage where I didn't want social interaction, but I couldn't be alone with my self-deprecating thoughts.

Unfortunately, surrounding myself with people was not supporting my emotional recovery, so I turned to the one thing that could previously soothe my anxiety-ridden mind: my beloved chai latte in a secluded coffee shop.

This was the first occasion where I granted myself honest alone time since the break-up, and I was determined to finally feel just a little better for a moment. I longed for the heavy boulder that had been pressing against my chest to lift, but I knew this was virtually impossible. Hopefully, the heat from my tea could at least melt its exterior and lighten the burden.

But, as I entered the cafe, a sensation of unbearable panic spread beyond my chest and crawled its way up my throat. The calming aroma of coffee had become an acidic stench, burning my nose and then my eyes once I noticed the booth we always chose was empty. This was once my place to relax, but now was stomach was tangled into tight knots that I could not undo by myself.

I needed someone to help me calm down, I needed to call my mom or my sister or my best friend or someone. I couldn't be here alone, I couldn't be anywhere alone. I was not strong enough to be by myself, I needed reassurance from someone else to prove to me that I would be okay. I was convinced that I no longer could enjoy one of my favorite locations simply because I did not have the company I desired.

That was the flaw in my thinking. I believed I wanted anyone to be with me at that moment, it didn't really matter who. In actuality, my intense longing for companionship was based purely on one person. I may not have continued to feel as anxious if someone else was at this coffee shop with me, but I would still be unsatisfied.

Which meant I was purely unsatisfied with myself. I was not enough for me. That is what the human fear of loneliness comes down to this: we cannot be alone with ourselves because we're not good enough.

So, I ordered my drink, brought it with me to the same booth that I had been sitting in for years, and sat alone. I listened to the familiar whirring of the coffee machines, the mumbling of the employees who knew me well enough to not ask for my order, the laughter of the children whose parents allowed them a sip of a sugary, fruit smoothie covered in a thick cloud of whipped cream. And I forced myself to sit by myself, slightly panicked and uncomfortable.

As time continued and I moved away from my hometown where that coffee shop resides, I slowly began to relearn the value of being alone. Although I find great peace in spending time with my fellow companions, and although it may offer me more comfort than listening to break-up playlists in my room does (I do believe that Britney Spears's "Stronger" has saved me from many breakdowns, though), I now can be alone. Whether it's in my room or in another cafe, I cherish the experience of being unaccompanied.

Nothing is going to stop me from taking pleasure in chai lattes ever again.