The Paradox of Loneliness
Have you ever felt completely alone, even when surrounded by people who love you? It's strange—our family, our friends, they would do anything for us. Yet, when we're in a certain headspace, when that darkness sets in, it feels like nobody is really there.
We can hear people say, "I love you." We can logically understand that they care. But do we actually feel it? Love, support, and connection exist, yet they don't always reach us the way they're meant to. And when we don't feel it, we don't act on it—we hesitate, we withdraw, we remain stuck.
This idea hit me hard when I came across a video that explained it in a way I'd never thought of before. It was mind-blowing. It made me realize that feeling love is not the same as knowing it's there. And maybe, just maybe, understanding this can help us bridge that gap.
Understanding Social Anxiety
People often ask me, "What does anxiety feel like?" or "Why is social anxiety so hard?" I wish I had a simple answer, but the truth is, it's difficult to put into words. It's not just nervousness. It's not just being shy. It's something deeper, something heavier—something that lingers even when nothing is wrong.
Imagine walking into a room full of people and feeling like every single one of them is watching you, judging you, even when they're not. Your heart races, your hands shake, your mind screams at you to leave, but you force yourself to stay. You overthink every word before you say it—Was that weird? Did I sound stupid?—and then you overthink it again for hours afterward.
The Glass Box Effect
It's like being trapped in a glass box where you can see the world around you, but you can't quite step into it. People tell you they're there for you, but in those dark moments, it feels like nobody can really reach you. You know they care, but you can't feel it the way they do.
The Nature of Depression
And depression? It's not always sadness. Sometimes, it's just nothing. A hollow emptiness where even the things you used to love don't spark anything inside you anymore. It's wanting to do everything but not having the energy to do anything.
The Spiral of Withdrawal
I've always had social anxiety, but lately, it feels like it's getting worse. It's not just nervousness in social situations—it's something deeper, something that makes me hyper-aware of everything around me. Every look, every word, every tiny interaction gets analyzed and overanalyzed in my head. The more I think about it, the worse it gets. And the worse it gets, the more I want to disappear.
That's why I've started distancing myself from people. I don't pick up calls from friends or relatives anymore. It's not that I don't care—it's that talking feels overwhelming. The only person I really talk to now is my dad. If I remember correctly, the last time I spoke to anyone else was two or three weeks ago.
The Desire to Escape
When I say I want to disappear, people assume the worst. They think I mean something drastic, something final. But that's not it. I don't want to die—I just want to stop existing for a while. To sleep so deeply that I never have to wake up and face all the noise, the anxiety, the endless overthinking.
It's not sadness. It's not even exhaustion. It's just this constant, overwhelming need to escape. To not have to explain myself. To not have to fight through the anxiety every single day.
I've tried to explain this to friends before, but they don't always understand. They worry, they ask questions, they try to fix it. But how do you fix something that doesn't even have a clear cause?