I'll manage

A sentence that cuts straight through my soul. Is that all? That you'll manage just fine like this? It feels cold, hard, and like surviving. And yes, maybe I'm being dramatic, but still...

We live in a time where independence is seen as the norm, and often as success. Self-sufficiency, autonomy, inner strength. Beautiful words, but when they go too far, it can become a lonely affair. Because no matter how independent you are, everyone experiences moments of doubt, sadness, or exhaustion. In those moments, it makes a difference if there is someone who looks after you for a while. Because suffering in silence is just loneliness, isn't it?

And loneliness is suffering. Not the kind of suffering that kills you directly, but it sucks the joy of life out of you. Or at least, that's how it works for me. A life with a chronic shortage of real contact does something to you. People are social beings; we need each other. Not just for the big moments, but especially for the small things: a shoulder when needed, laughing together, feeling heard by sharing something.

Why this story? I'm worried. I'm quite shy myself and don't easily approach others. But I have learned. I know how it works, how to have a conversation, how to make contact. Applying it is still not always easy, but those skills are inside me, developed in my youth. But children and young people today? They grow up behind screens. The norm is no longer physical contact but digital. A quick message instead of a visit. A like instead of a hug or a high-five. Especially for those who already find social contact difficult by nature, isolation is lurking. What if they never really learn how to look someone in the eyes? How to start a conversation? How to be together in silence without discomfort? How to truly listen? What do we lose if contact is no longer a given?

There's something fundamental about physical presence. A look that says more than words, a touch that comforts. You can't replace that with an emoji. What happens if a generation grows up without that as a foundation? What if they're adults someday and have no tools to maintain friendships, to deliver difficult messages in person, to comfort without words?

We've created a world where status, money, and possessions seem to be everything. But what if we measured how rich we are by something else? By how many real conversations we have. How many times we let someone know that they matter. Let's not forget to seek each other out. To call instead of message. To sit somewhere and have a good conversation. Especially for those who find it difficult to seek contact. Because without each other, we lose something fundamental. And that's a price too high to pay.