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I hate making things about myself, but for most of my life, I have never felt like I belong. Does anybody, though? Truly, what does it even feel like to genuinely, deeply belong?

A lot of the time, I look around and wonder if everyone has their own personal guidebook, a wikiHow on how to exist properly — how to speak with the right tone at the right time, laugh at the right volume, to respond quickly without overthinking every word and every POV, to choose something so sacred without losing confidence, to choose and be still.

I can be in a room with my parents, my friends, even strangers. I can choose what I want, what I need — book a class, eat certain foods, join a community, choose a career path (this one… well, still in progress).

I meet different types of people, greet them, smile, be myself to some extent..or more? Whether at the dinner table, work, cafes, in grocery stores, events, or any place I can name, there is still something inside me that stays out of reach. Like I am here, but not entirely here.

Everything that I do, every word that I say, every place I go always feels slightly distorted, sort of disconnected… like there is an invisible barrier between me and the world. Everyone else moves naturally while I am quietly spiraling out of sync inside.

Perhaps, that is why I have always wanted to go far away from home, from the people I know, from all the things I have been conditioned by — to get a glimpse of starting anew and feel those fractions of finally belonging.

As time keeps ticking, reality always finds its way back to me, to realize that it was never about a place, the people, or a destination. It was the feeling of never belonging to myself. It was my way of escaping loneliness.