It’s Tuesday night and I’m Zooming with my friends as I speak. It’s become a staple of our routines. Not daily, but close. It’s pretty quiet at the moment. Everybody’s doing their own thing. We’re just happy to have each other around. When we first started doing this, almost a month ago, it was much different. Back then, the calls were loud and energetic, as we hadn’t been in constant contact since we’re spread out away from home. Some of my friends were in Philly when everything started. One was on Staten Island. Another was and still is living alone in L.A. If I could find one upside to the chaos today, it would be that it has shown us that we can stay connected even while apart, by geography or quarantine. This comes at the cost of some of my friends’ housing, internships, and jobs, so I suppose it’s a pyrrhic upside, but I’ll take what I can get.

The energy of our Zoom calls has dwindled somewhat, but there’s a certain sense of community still, shared suffering, intimacy even. There are some nights where we hardly speak at all. Each of us doing something to ourselves. Those of us still in class might be doing homework (or in my case, attempting then giving up). My Staten Island friend, whose only responsibility was her internship with a live music venue which has cancelled shows through May at the very least, has tried to keep occupied with video games. My L.A. friend, laid off from her job, has done the same, though she has the added advantages of legal weed being able to walk to the beach to pass the time.

Even in those nights where we don’t speak, there’s something comforting about being able to talk to them. There’s something soothing in hearing the sounds of their games and typing, slightly garbled by the internet. It’s something approximating normal, giving something close enough to human contact that we can carry on. We might not be able to huddle up on a couch and play together, but we can make do playing online. It’s almost like we’re making up for lost time, for years of accepting separation while we were all away at our colleges.

In some ways, it’s even better than hanging out in person. It’s certainly logistically easier. We don’t have to drive to someone’s house and calculate how long we can stay before we’re too tired to get home and get ready for bed. Since I don’t have a car and have to depend on my parents and friends for rides (which I will never stop feeling bad about), we don’t have to figure getting me home into the mix. We’re all already home. When we finally tire out, we leave the call, turn around, and we’re already in bed.

To get to the point of this post, these Zoom calls, despite the fact that we don’t always do much and sometimes go far later than I should, are one of the only things keeping me sane while living alone. I used to dream of living alone. Of having my own place, of not having to dance around roommates, of only needing to deal with my own schedule, of not needing to deal with my parents. Of course, those dreams usually included opportunities to get out, be it for a job, a girlfriend, or hanging out in person with friends. They certainly didn’t include social distancing, at least not to this degree. And while I am very introverted and certainly appreciate the solitude, it doesn’t feel as freeing right now as I’d like. It’s not the escape I wanted, and it’s somewhat discouraging considering the image I built up in my head.

There’s a silence in my world right now. It’s a lurking thing. It slithers behind me while I try to drown it out with YouTube and loud music. It creeps around between the chirps of birds outside and the footsteps of people living on the floor above me. It whispers just beneath the hum of the the stove fan, oozes out of the vents of my air conditioner, steams out of my kettle as I make tea for one. It’s silence as white noise, constant and just loud enough to be noticed, just present enough to make you aware of it, paranoid and holding your breath while you wait to hear something, anything. A creaking chair, a muffled voice, a throat-clearing cough. I’m okay with it most of the time. You can’t expect the world to speak constantly, especially when it’s holding its breath. But I’ve never had to deal with it for such a sustained period.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. Rambling as usual. Trying to fill the silence. It’s not a perfect solution, and probably not terribly entertaining. But hey, I might as well speak where I can, right? I’m sure I’m not alone in this situation. All things considered, I’m probably doing better than most. I know my L.A. friend in particular is very extroverted and has been going very stir crazy being stuck alone, to the point that she’s been seriously considering breaking social distancing somewhat to get together with the one or two friends who haven’t gone home. I haven’t really felt this need yet. The Zoom calls are sustaining me, at least for now. It could be worse, after all. I could be old, lonely, technology deprived or technologically illiterate, with no friends whatsoever. I have to try and look on the bright side. I can’t say I’m truly happy with this version of living alone, but I can say I’m thankful it’s not as bad as it could be.