“I was a man who thrived on solitude... The darkness of the room was like sunlight to me.” — Charles Bukowski
Bukowski shares a raw, vulnerable confession. Solitude was not prideful isolation but essential survival. He didn’t seek loneliness to be poetic—it was oxygen. This speaks to introverts, creatives, and those exhausted by society’s noise. His darkness wasn’t despair, but a sanctuary for thought, healing, and fragile peace.