Why monsoon loneliness feels heavier than any other time of year

There’s loneliness, and then there’s monsoon loneliness. The kind that sneaks up on you when you least expect it. You’re fine, going about your day, and suddenly your FYP is full of couples cooking together, cuddling, doing all the things you’d usually roll your eyes at. But today, for some reason, you watch. And then you keep watching.

It’s not just that you’re stuck at home. It’s that everything outside feels like it’s moving in slow motion, and inside, your brain refuses to shut up about all things negative. You’re not sad exactly, but you’re not fine either. Even your music starts acting up. Random sappy songs show up like they’ve been waiting for this moment. 

You start noticing how quiet it is. How weird the light looks. You think about texting someone but don’t. You make chai and don’t finish it. The day moves, but not in a way that feels productive. It just happens. And somehow, you feel a little left behind...in life or at everything. 

So yes, monsoon loneliness is a thing. And it feels different. Slower. Heavier. A bit like waiting for something without knowing what.

The weather gives you no control

Plans don’t happen. The roads are blocked. You don’t feel like dressing up or going out. Everything starts to depend on whether it’s raining or not, and after a point, you stop trying. That pause might seem like a break at first, but it slowly starts to feel like a wall between you and the rest of the world.

It makes everything around you feel more emotional than it is

A window. A song. That half-eaten packet of biscuits from three days ago. All of it suddenly looks like it means something. The gloominess of the season has a way of turning the smallest things into triggers. You weren’t trying to spiral, but here we are.

Your phone stops being fun

Scrolling through Instagram or watching Reels doesn’t help. It actually makes things worse. Everyone either looks busy, loved-up, or somehow better at being alone than you. Even the people doing nothing seem to be doing it in aesthetically pleasing houses with warm lighting. We’re not supposed to believe everything on social media, but logic leaves the building.

It throws off your rhythm

You sleep at strange hours. You stop replying to people. You forget when you last went out. Days start blending into each other, and even though you’re not doing much, you somehow feel exhausted. It’s like your energy is leaking somewhere and you can’t plug it.

You start remembering things you don’t usually think about

Random moments come up. People you don’t talk to anymore. Versions of yourself that don’t exist now. The season slows everything down just enough for that stuff to float to the surface. Sometimes, that feels healing. Other times, it just sits there and makes things heavier.

There’s a weird guilt about not enjoying it

Everyone’s talking about how cosy the monsoon is; how it’s the perfect time to watch movies or read or light candles, or have deep conversations. But if none of that is happening for you, it can make the loneliness feel even sharper—like you’re missing out on something you’re supposed to be feeling.

You don’t know what to do with the quiet

Some days, the silence is peaceful. Other days, it’s loud. You try to fill it with music, background TV, snacks, texting random people—but nothing really works. You want noise, but not too much. You want company, but not small talk. It’s confusing. You end up doing nothing.

Featured image credit: Unsplash 

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