It can be argued that the existence of God, of some divine being whose powers extend further than our weak, finite minds, is solely a result of loneliness. Or rather, mankind’s great fear of being alone.
This fear will strike all of us at one point or another in our lives, but for me it happened when I was not-so-freshly single and stranded in a big city whilst all my friends were on holiday.
Big cities as a rule are lonely places to be. It seems that the more tightly packed together people are, the more we strive to ignore each other. Then we are reduced to combating our solitude by walked in big crowds and roughly bumping into each other–at that point, any contact becomes preferable to none.
Having always lived in a city, I am used to the neon lights and tall glass buildings, and their deceiving illusion of grandeur. But in this moment of loneliness, the city was not simply an illusion. it became my modern Babel, where I could only wander aimlessly whilst others were still lost in the dream of building up into the sky towards a divine companion I could not believe in.
It is difficult to be certain of one’s existence when one is lonely.
This feeling of despair was abruptly interrupted by a spell made of music and alcohol and people that I call friends when my mood is up.
Dancing in the semi-darkness, to a beat that called my name, I turned and caught the eye of a guy dancing near me. We both smiled simultaneously, strangers who had suddenly become best friends. Everyone here belonged, together, and we all danced to this new religion.
No other city has given me this illusion of belonging, and it is for this reason that when I am in London, I am home.