And those who belong nowhere… where are they meant to go?

Some evenings feel heavier than others.

Not because something terrible happened, not because the world suddenly collapsed, but because there comes a moment when the noise of the day fades away and silence finally becomes loud enough to force a person to confront the emptiness they keep hiding from. This evening feels like that. The sky outside is slowly darkening, the air feels strangely still, and my own thoughts feel louder than every sound around me.

I sometimes wonder what it feels like to truly belong somewhere.

To enter a room and not feel like a temporary guest in everybody’s life. To speak without overthinking every word afterward. To laugh without feeling the loneliness waiting for me once the moment ends. Maybe people like that really exist. Maybe there are people who have places that feel like home and people who feel like peace. But I have never known what that feels like.

Everywhere I go, I feel slightly misplaced, like a sentence written in the wrong story.

People say, “You’ll find your people someday,”but They do not understand what it feels like to stand in the middle of a crowd and still feel invisible. To smile during conversations while your mind quietly whispers, “You do not belong here either.”

I am exhausted from pretending that I am okay with always feeling out of place. Exhausted from acting normal while constantly feeling emotionally disconnected from everything around me. Sometimes I look at people laughing together so effortlessly and wonder what is wrong with me. Why does belonging come so naturally to everyone else while I constantly feel like a stranger borrowing space in places that were never meant for me? 

People think loneliness means having nobody around you, but that is not true at all. The worst kind of loneliness is when people are around you and yet your soul still feels untouched. When nobody truly notices the sadness hidden behind your normal voice. When your existence slowly starts feeling invisible even while standing in crowded places.

And maybe that is the cruelest thing about life not being hated, not being abandoned, but constantly feeling emotionally homeless.

There are thoughts inside me that I have never spoken aloud to anyone. Thoughts so heavy that even words feel too weak to carry them.

I had people around me before. I laughed with them, spent time with them, shared moments that looked beautiful from the outside. But deep inside, there was always a distance I could never cross. I could never fully open the locked rooms inside my mind. I could never tell them about the storms that lived quietly inside me. They knew my presence, but never my silence. And eventually, those people became memories attached to a certain phase of life, proving once again that some connections are only temporary shelters, not permanent homes.

College corridors, crowded rooms, noisy afternoons, endless conversations around me yet somehow I still return to my room carrying the same unbearable quietness in my chest. Sometimes during lunch breaks, while everyone else is talking or laughing, I just sit there watching random videos, listening to music, pretending I am distracted enough not to notice how disconnected I feel from everything around me.

And the strange part is, I have become used to it.

Used to silence.

Used to isolation.

Used to carrying thoughts too heavy to explain.

I think some people are born with hearts that feel too deeply for this world.

They notice small changes in voices.

They remember tiny details nobody else cares about.

They love too sincerely.

They think too much.

And because of that, life hurts them more than it should.

Maybe that is why I struggle to fit anywhere. Because my heart keeps searching for something deeper than surface-level conversations and temporary connections. I do not just want company. I want understanding. I want the kind of connection where silence feels safe instead of awkward. The kind where I do not have to hide parts of myself just to stay accepted.

But the truth is, the world rarely gives people that kind of love easily.

And sometimes I fear that one day I will become so used to loneliness that even happiness will start feeling unfamiliar to me.

Still… despite everything, despite how tired my soul feels, there is a small fragile part inside me that continues to hope. Hope is strange like that. Even after life disappoints you repeatedly, some part of the heart still secretly waits for better days. Still secretly believes that maybe somewhere in this enormous world there are people who will understand the things I cannot explain.

Maybe one day I will no longer feel like a temporary person in everybody’s life.

Maybe one day someone will stay.

Until then, I guess I will continue surviving these quiet evenings, carrying oceans of emotions inside a heart that nobody fully reads.