Creativity Quote by Geri Halliwell

Loneliness, for Halliwell, isn’t a tragic rainstorm rolling in; it’s a sticky, oddly comfortable illness you can feed. The line works because it refuses the glamorous version of isolation (the tortured artist, the misunderstood star) and instead lands on a blunt domestic image: TV glow, three bags of biscuits, and the choice to disappear without anyone noticing. “Disease” is doing heavy lifting here. It frames loneliness as something that spreads when indulged, a self-reinforcing habit dressed up as self-care.

The specificity of “three bags” is the tell. It’s funny in a wincey way, the kind of detail you only give when you’ve either been there or can vividly imagine the slide. That humor isn’t decorative; it’s defensive. Halliwell is signaling self-awareness about how easy it is to swap actual connection for consumption and distraction, especially when you’re exhausted, overstimulated, or living in a fishbowl. For a pop musician whose life has been defined by mass attention, it’s a pointed inversion: fame doesn’t immunize you against withdrawal; it can train you for it. When your public self is constantly “communicating,” opting out starts to feel like relief.

The subtext is a warning about agency. Loneliness isn’t just something that happens to you; it’s something you can choose, one quiet evening at a time, until it becomes a lifestyle. The biscuits aren’t the problem. The silence is.