This might be a long rant, but I need to get it off my chest.
When this year started, I made all these promises to myself about being better. And I have made changes—but the things I'm feeling now? They're hard to explain unless you've been there yourself.
I wanted to be more social this year. And technically, I am. But here's the thing—I feel more isolated than ever. Isn't that strange? When I spent most of my time alone, I didn't feel this disconnected. Now, even when I'm surrounded by people, there's this new layer of detachment. It's like I'm watching myself through glass, pretending to be part of something I'm not really in.
You know what's really getting to me lately? I've never been one for showing off. That's why I bought this super basic phone—something cheap, just for calls. Not even a hundred bucks. But when I'm around people now, there's this awkward moment when everyone pulls out their fancy iPhones. I feel this pressure, like I'm supposed to pull mine out too, just to fit in. It's subtle, but it's real.
I used to think people who showed off—flaunting their new phones or expensive gadgets—were just bragging. Just flexing money. But maybe I was wrong. Now that I'm a bit more social, I can feel it in those small moments. I think most people aren't showing off because they want to feel superior. Maybe they just don't want to feel left out.
Like when one person takes out their phone and others follow—suddenly, I feel like I have to take mine out too. Not because I need to. Not because I want to. But because not doing it makes me feel... exposed. Vulnerable somehow.
When I was buying a phone, I picked the most basic, cheapest model I could find. I didn't care about looks or brand—I just needed something for calls and the occasional message. Same thing with my laptop. It's not fancy, not expensive. But it gets the job done.
Still, I can't lie to you—when I step outside and see what other people have, part of me starts questioning my choices. I feel this weird pressure, like I should want more. Not because my tools can't handle my needs—but because the world around me seems to be whispering that I'm falling behind.
I'm planning to buy a better laptop—not because I want to flex it, but because I genuinely need more power for work and better career opportunities. But I won't lie: this feeling, this subtle sense of needing to "catch up," plays a part too.
It's strange how we think we're above all this, until we're in it, isn't it?
Let me tell you about my habits.
At the start of this year, I wanted to fix so many of them. And to be fair, I have made progress. But here's the thing—some of those "bad habits" weren't just random behaviors. They were symptoms of deeper issues. Or maybe even coping mechanisms.
Take my sleep, for example.
There was a time I would stay up until 3:00 or 6:00 a.m.—coding through the night, completely locked into my screen. I called it productivity. I convinced myself it was discipline. But looking back, I think I was just avoiding something… maybe loneliness, maybe overthinking. I don't know.
Now, I'm sleeping better. At least compared to before. But I'm not sure if I'm feeling better because of the new routine—or if I'm just numb to how drained I actually am.
I've started getting daily migraines. That worries me.
And here's the question that keeps circling in my head: Was the old routine bad because it was unhealthy? Or is this new version just "healthier" on paper but still missing something I need?
I don't really know how to write this properly. There are too many thoughts, and they're all colliding at once. But I'll try to make sense of it for you.
When I started socializing more, I thought it would be good for me. And it was, at first. I began talking to people, opening up a bit. But the more I did, the more I started noticing things I hadn't before.
I always feel like I'm on the outside somehow. Like even when I'm with people, I'm not really with them. I watch how they talk, how they connect, how it all seems to flow for them—and I wonder why I don't feel the same ease.
I don't know how to talk to people the way they do. I always feel awkward. I stumble over small talk. Sometimes I just don't know what to say at all.
There have been moments where someone brings up something from my past—something I'd rather forget—and it just hits me. I sit there, trying to smile it off, but inside, it stings.
And honestly, people outside—they seem so intelligent, so composed. Meanwhile, I'm just trying to make sense of where I fit.
Before all this, I think I was… okay.
I didn't really care about what people said or did. I cared about myself, my space, my peace. Maybe some would call that selfish, or introverted, or self-absorbed—I don't know. But back then, I felt fine. I didn't feel lonely. In fact, I loved being alone.
Then came the advice. "You need to socialize more. Talk to people. Put yourself out there." So I tried. I started surrounding myself with people. And ironically, that's when I started feeling lonely. More isolated than ever.
I question myself now: Why did I even want to socialize in the first place? What did I think I was missing?
It's strange. I watch people take something small and turn it into this huge emotional display—just from a casual comment or a simple moment. Small talk becomes drama. Silence becomes awkwardness. I don't get it. Do you?
And maybe I just don't know how to "play the game" the way others do. I'll admit—I'm not an expert in everything. But I know what I know. I've trained in tech, I understand AI fundamentals. If a conversation heads that way, I can speak. I have something to say.
But there was this moment recently—a guy started talking to me, and I could tell he wasn't really listening. Just parroting stuff from a YouTube video, acting like he knew it all. That kind of interaction feels so empty. Like everyone is talking, but no one is really saying anything.
I don't want to be like that.
If I don't know something, I stay quiet. I listen. I don't pretend. Maybe that's rare. Maybe that's why I feel so out of sync sometimes.
I guess I just don't know how to "play the game" the way others do. I'll admit—I'm not an expert in everything. But I know what I know. I've trained in tech, I understand AI fundamentals. If a conversation heads that way, I can speak. I have something to say.
But there was this moment recently—a guy started talking to me, and I could tell he wasn't really listening. Just parroting stuff from a YouTube video, acting like he knew it all. That kind of interaction feels so empty. Like everyone is talking, but no one is really saying anything.
I don't want to be like that.
If I don't know something, I stay quiet. I listen. I don't pretend. Maybe that's rare. Maybe that's why I feel so out of sync sometimes.
I guess I just don't know how to play this game.
And to be honest, I haven't played it in years. For over five years, I kept to myself. I avoided the social stuff. I didn't talk to many people—not even my dad. I just lived quietly, in my own world. It wasn't perfect, but it felt stable.
Now that I've tried stepping into social circles again, it just feels off. I feel like people get awkward around me. Maybe it's my energy, or maybe I overthink things too much—but I can't help but feel like I'm not made for this.
Maybe I'm not built for socializing the way people expect me to be.
And maybe... that's okay. Maybe it's more about finding the right people than forcing myself to fit into spaces that drain me. Perhaps true connection isn't about quantity but quality—those rare moments when you find someone who gets it, who doesn't make you feel like you're performing.
I think what I'm learning is that it's not about being more social or less social. It's about being authentic. And sometimes authenticity means admitting that you're different, that you need different things.