I'm not going to lie, I miss my friends like anything -- our weekend dinners with the squad and failing miserably to study together. I miss making plans, even if half the time they fall through. I miss the hope that came with these little moments that I took for granted. But, I am benefitting in one way from this quarantine: I'm building a better relationship with myself.

The longest, most important relationship you will ever have is the one you have with yourself. It dictates all of your decisions, friendships, partnerships, and worldview. With all the time I could possibly have and no excuses, I am forced to sit and listen to my inner thoughts. My best friend told me over FaceTime how she was feeling anxious whenever the music, or whatever she was watching, stopped because it left her with her own thoughts. This made her not want to go to sleep, because that time trying to fall asleep is just that: surrendering to your mind.

I agreed. The anxiety from my thoughts comes from knowing all of the things I have yet to do, all the ways I have failed, and all of my shortcomings of the day. There are no friends, no events to distract me or make me think this day was great anyways. It's just me, myself and I. However, as the days go on, I almost like this. I'm more real with myself and I trust my instincts more. I like that I know when I'm fooling myself, or when I am on top of my game.

Without the influence of others, or trying to be 'perfect' for people who honestly don't matter, I feel lighter. I feel as though I've been released from some metaphorical pair of skinny jeans and I can breathe again. I had been deluding myself all this time that everything was fine, and that life was just taking its course. But with no one and nothing to blame, I'm facing my fears, insecurities, and inner dialogue. It's not easy, not at all. Yet I'd rather have the security of myself, before the unease with everyone else.

One way I have been working through my thoughts, so as to not be overwhelmed as my friend said, is journaling. Writing is so much easier than letting my emotions run amuck without identifying them. Writing is also one of the few activities that lets me sit still without music, or at the most the music fades out when I get into a rhythm. There's a peace in quiet now that I appreciate, and it helps me hear my thoughts and feel my emotions rather than suppressing them.

Quarantine life is far from what we know or find comfortable, but we are being forced to be more aware, more sensitive, and more compassionate. These qualities had been lost somewhere in our increasingly distracted, loud world. Taking these moments to be grateful and work on myself while I have the privilege of time is my motivation rights now. Hopefully, if the world comes back to normality, I can come out a better person.