I’ve never felt like I belong anywhere.
I rarely connect with people, and maintaining friendships is hard. The ones that last are the ones that don’t require much from me—no constant check-ins, no expectations I can’t meet. Still, I carry a quiet guilt for not reaching out or making plans.
Sometimes I’ll be having a “good” day and think, I should text so and so.
But the longer I sit with it, the more the dread creeps in.
What if they want to make plans?
What if I don’t feel like it when the day comes?
I’ve canceled plans more times than I can count—sometimes hours before, sometimes days—relieved in the moment, guilty immediately after.
Being alone, doing my own thing—it’s just easier. Quieter. Less complicated.
I love my own company, and I never feel lonely.
I thought everyone needed this much alone time.
Every social event costs me at least 24 hours of recovery. On workdays, I don’t have that time, and it shows—anxiety, tension, sometimes even anger. It makes relationships complicated. It’s not that I can’t do things after work… it’s that there’s always a price to pay.
Even small things—errands, appointments, anything that takes me somewhere other than work or home—can trigger instant anxiety. I’ve always pushed through it, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right?
For a long time, I thought something was wrong with me.
Maybe I had some kind of mental illness.
Maybe I just wasn’t normal.
Why am I so bothered by things that don’t seem to affect anyone else?
Why am I so particular?
Why can’t I just relax?
I always knew I was different.
I just didn’t know why.