48 - I’m Not Lonely, I’m Unreachable

I don’t have many friends. 

Not because I’m bad at making them 

but because I choose not to.

I’ve learned that the more people you let in, 

the more chances you give them to leave.

To betray. 

To disappoint. 

To misunderstand you in ways that hurt more than silence.

So I keep my circle small. 

Not out of bitterness, 

but out of self-preservation. 

Out of exhaustion. 

Out of the quiet grief that comes from being misread too many times.

Fewer people means fewer mirrors. 

Less time wondering what they see in me.

Less time performing. 

Less time hoping they feel the same. 

Less time fearing they don’t.

I’ve felt loneliness, yes. 

But the kind that hurts most isn’t being alone. 

It’s being surrounded and still unseen.

I’ve been in rooms full of laughter and felt like a ghost. 

I’ve shared meals and felt like a stranger.

I’ve smiled just so no one would ask what I was really feeling.

So I stopped trying. 

Stopped reaching. 

Stopped hoping for closeness that always came with conditions.

Now, I keep a few close. 

The ones who don’t need me to be happy,

or healed, 

or whole. 

Just honest. 

Just present. 

Just real.

I’m not lonely. 

I just made myself unreachable. 

Because being misunderstood hurts more than being alone. 

And sometimes, 

solitude is the only place I feel safe enough to be myself.