I was thinking the other day, it still feels isolating at times. Not in the same way it used to—I’ve always struggled to relate to most people.

Before, that came with a kind of quiet melancholy, a need to be understood.

But that part is gone now.

I understand myself more deeply than anyone else could, so I don’t really look for that anymore.

What replaced it is stranger. It’s not loneliness in the sad sense, more like it’s cautioned distance.

I’ve realised how far inward I’ve gone, and how few people are willing to follow that depth or even touch it.

Not because they can’t, but because it destabilises something.

Identity, maybe.

It’s like I’ve made camp and set up shop in the abyss and I’m just too lazy to climb back up to the surface.

So I ended up in this funky limbo: not lonely, not misunderstood, just slightly outside.

Like I don’t quite know how to engage anymore—

without either holding back or going somewhere most people don’t want to go.