Bittersweet Solitude
Sometimes I wonder whether the workload I can handle is, in some way, compensation for my fucked-up social life.
Maybe I'm partly hiding behind my creative progress because this is something I am extremely good at.
My hyperfocus.
My ability to learn incredibly quickly.
My pattern recognition.
My motivation.
My emotions.
They are all incredibly useful here.
Meanwhile, my private life feels completely fucked up.
I could slow down.
I don't have to create four characters, read seventy-seven pages, figure out how and what I want to make videos about, and write this blog—all in a single day.
I am absolutely on schedule.
Yes, I need consistency.
I need deadlines.
I need a certain sense of urgency because what I want to accomplish in a relatively short time is huge.
But there is no need to rush quite this much, even if I genuinely enjoy it.
Really.
I love this flow.
I love feeling this efficient.
But at the same time, I feel this emptiness, and staying busy helps me avoid facing it.
Not because I don't want to face it or do something about it...
But because I honestly have no clue how.
It is such a huge question mark in my head.
Many people my age have to learn how to be alone.
How to sit with themselves.
How to love themselves enough to enjoy their own company.
For me, solitude has always been my best friend.
It is actually the only thing I have ever truly known.
I am more than comfortable in my own company.
Even during my lowest moments.
Even when I hated myself.
I still loved being alone with myself.
Just sitting there...
Chilling with my inner demons.
And honestly...
That is the only thing I truly know.
Solitude.
Even when I was surrounded by people.
Even when those people genuinely wanted the best for me.
Even when I shouldn't have felt lonely.
So now I am sitting alone in my room, with forty pages left to read, thinking about how fucked up my social life feels.
I am sure that part of it is self-sabotage.
I am sure that if I had acted differently, many things could have turned out better.
But it always takes two to tango.
I cannot always be the one searching for mistakes only in myself.
I cannot be the sole reason I spent so much of my life feeling alone.
I have always looked inward first.
I have always blamed myself first.
I have always searched for what I was doing wrong.
But at this point, I have to face the fact that not everything depends on me.
I can search for my soul tribe...
But if I don't find them—and I don't even know where to look—that isn't something I can solve alone.
And maybe most people will never truly understand me.
I am simply too different.
Too weird.
People can love me.
They can enjoy my company.
Without ever truly understanding who I am.
Even when I genuinely want to open up.
Even when I want to show them my real self.
Whatever I do, I will probably always be the black sheep.
The one who stands out.
The one who never quite fits anywhere.
But I also know that somewhere out there, there are people waiting for me.
People with whom I fit exactly as I am.
With my perfectly imperfect nature.
With all my flaws.
With all my strengths.
With all my weaknesses.
Because there is simply no way that, out of ten billion people, there isn't at least a small group where I can finally feel at home.
Or one person with whom we can truly love each other and build something meaningful together.
But until I meet them...
Or at least figure out how to find them...
I'll build a deeper friendship with this book.
At least I know that in one part of my life, I can succeed.
Because this is what I was meant to do.