And that’s how you become the kind of person you once hated.

"There are times when I am convinced I am unfit for any human relationship."

~Franz Kafka

This line by Franz Kafka has slowly started to feel like my reality now not as a quote I relate to, but as something I accidentally ended up living inside.

All those experience didn’t just hurt it rewired things.

After that, friendships stopped feeling like a place I could simply exist in. Everything started feeling uncertain, like I was always one wrong step away from being misunderstood or slowly pushed out. Even kindness began to feel temporary, like it had conditions I couldn’t see.

And it didn’t stay as just one memory. It spread quietly. Old disappointments, small letdowns, things I once ignored they all started joining together, shaping a belief that closeness doesn’t really last. That people drift. That bonds don’t hold. That it’s safer not to lean in too much in the first place.

Over time, even feeling things properly became difficult. Not because there’s nothing inside, but because everything feels muted now like emotions don’t fully reach the surface anymore. Joy doesn’t settle, pain doesn’t fully release, everything just passes through without staying long enough to understand.

And in relationships, I don’t really know how to be anymore. Small things feel complicated when to speak, when to stay quiet, how much is too much, how little is too distant. It feels like I end up damaging bonds without meaning to, or watching them fade while I don’t know how to fix what’s slipping. Eventually, it starts to feel like I can’t really build anything stable anymore, like connection itself doesn’t take root the way it used to.

I barely talk now, which feels strange because I used to never stop. Silence used to feel uncomfortable, something I always tried to fill. Now it feels default. Not because there’s nothing inside, but because expression itself doesn’t come out easily anymore. Even when something is there, it doesn’t translate into words the way it once did.

Even being alone has changed meaning. I used to fear it, like it meant being forgotten or left behind. Now it feels easier than trying to connect and still feeling misunderstood. Not peaceful just simpler than trying and failing to be close.

There was a time I could care without thinking. I could forgive easily, trust easily, show up fully without second-guessing whether it was worth it. My heart used to respond first, before doubt ever entered the picture.

But after that experience, and the ones that followed, something slowly shut down. Not all at once just enough that the warmth started fading, piece by piece. Now it often feels like there’s nothing left to offer. Not anger, not sadness, not care just a quiet emptiness where emotions used to move freely.

And when I look at myself now, it can feel like I’ve lost the ability to form bonds at all. Like I’ve ruined or drifted away from every connection I once had, and I don’t know how to build new ones without everything falling apart again. It feels like I can’t fully feel, can’t properly express, and can’t really attach the way I used to.

But even this isn’t who I “am” completely it’s more like something that built itself over time to avoid getting hurt again. A system that stayed longer than it was needed.