when the world is too loud
There were days when everything seemed to be moving, but nothing was going anywhere.
She often wondered — was she living someone else’s dream?
Or maybe just fulfilling the dreams of her 20-year-old self.
Back then, she imagined it would be magical. Bold. Fulfilling.
What she didn’t realize was just how challenging it would be.
Sometimes she asked herself:
Am I just being picky? Self-centered?
Everyone has struggles — that’s what they say, right?
Yes, we all know that.
But maybe… maybe people just need space to feel what they feel.
To be who they truly are.
Without being rushed. Without being judged.
In truth, she felt most like herself when she was alone.
Not lonely — just alone.
Some people need others beside them to feel whole. A partner. A team.
But her comfort came in quiet moments, doing things on her own, without noise or expectation.
Not because she hated people — far from it.
She just felt more at ease in her own space, on her own rhythm.
Still,
Can we stop using ourselves as the baseline to judge others?
It’s harder than earning a postgraduate degree, isn’t it?
There’s always that whisper —
“Maybe she’s got issues.”
“There must be something wrong with her.”
But is that really true?
Some people just… prefer their own company.
They feel safer when they’re in control of their space, their time, their energy.
It’s not about disliking others — sometimes, it’s just about needing more silence than conversation.
The twist — she actually liked going out.
She loved good conversations, laughing with her family, and the rare joy of connecting with well-chosen friends.
But She thrived in solitude.
More herself than ever.
She often described herself as an individualist.
To her, being an individualist meant offering others the same respect she wanted in return.
She didn’t pry into people’s lives, and she hoped they’d do the same.
She wasn’t cold — just protective of her peace.
And no — being an individualist, isn't she selfish?
She did what she wanted, when she wanted, yes — but never carelessly.
She always considered those she loved.
The life she chose came with commitments — and she honored them.
People sometimes asked,
“Aren’t you afraid of dying alone?”
Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn’t.
But if that day ever came, she would’ve prepared for it.
With books. A garden. Memories. A cat, perhaps.
A life that felt real.
Because what she needed most wasn’t noise — it was space.
Space to breathe.
To return to herself when the world felt too loud.
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