I sit with my thoughts every day, my mind wandering through places I can’t always name. Some of them, I wish I could share. But when I look around, I realize I’m the only one here.
I’ve built friendships, nurtured relationships, and given parts of myself to others. Yet somehow, I always end up alone with my thoughts. Not because I lack people to talk to, but because, if I’m being honest, I’ve grown to love my own company. I find comfort in the quiet, the stillness, the space that is entirely mine.
Lately, I’ve started to wonder if there’s a reason for that.
You see, I crave connection, the kind that makes you feel something. The kind where words aren’t just spoken but felt. But the world around me seems content with nonchalance, with keeping things light, with avoiding anything that requires real vulnerability.
For so long, I poured into relationships, stretched myself thin, making space for things that never truly fit. But now I choose differently. I choose my peace. I choose to honor the parts of me that long for something deeper.
I used to think I was asking for too much, that maybe I should shrink my emotions, soften my words, pretend that shallow conversations and distant interactions were enough. But I can’t. No, I won’t.
Because I’ve come to realize that depth isn’t something to apologize for. Wanting to truly know someone, to sit in the silence of understanding, to have a conversation that lingers long after it ends… That’s not asking for too much. It’s simply asking for something real.
In the end, people without depth don’t belong in my world. Nonchalance doesn’t thrive here. I no longer have room for surface-level connections or one-sided efforts. I won’t beg for space in places I was never meant to stay.
And if real is rare, then I’ll wait. I’ll hold onto the hope that somewhere, in this vast sea of surface-level interactions, there are others like me, craving depth, knowing that when I find it, I’ll recognize it instantly.