I think I finally understand why people aren’t always drawn to me the way they are to others.
It’s not that I’m unapproachable or boring—it’s just that I’m genuinely fine being on my own. I can sit in a coffee shop, sipping my usual order, without that restless urge to check my phone or scan the room for familiar faces.
I can walk through the supermarket, picking out what I need, completely indifferent to the curious glances of people who think grocery shopping should be a social event. I can sit in Jollibee, enjoying my favorite burger, not minding the chatter around me, not feeling the need to fill the empty seat beside me.
There’s no loneliness in these moments, no lingering sadness. Just me, existing as I am, content in my own company.
The people in my life seem to understand this without me having to explain it. They don’t push or question the space I take for myself; they respect it without making a big deal out of it. And I appreciate that more than I could ever say. I don’t build walls, but somehow, they know where the line is, and they honor it.
Maybe that’s what makes it all feel right—this quiet balance between solitude and connection, between being alone and never truly feeling lonely.
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