I struggled a lot to fit in as a teenager—perhaps like anyone else. I was trying to figure out who I was (and still am) and what my purpose in life might be. I felt torn between what I genuinely liked and what I thought I should like based on society’s expectations. I struggled to find my own voice, to speak up—a constant battle between what I believed was right and what was deemed acceptable by the majority.
I also experienced being bullied, though not to an extreme degree. Some kids despised me, probably because of the way I talked, how different I was from them, or perhaps because they saw me as a threat. I guess even among adults, this is common—whenever someone is perceived as “weird” or different from their idea of normal, the initial response is often ridicule or exclusion. And their excuse? It’s just for fun. Even when it comes at the expense of someone else’s feelings.
As I grew older, my anxieties and insecurities only deepened. I struggled even more to relate to people my age. There were countless times I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere—always the last option, the backup plan. Maybe that’s why I preferred talking to people much older than me. Perhaps it’s something that happens when you grow up as an only child without many other kids to play with. I wasn’t even allowed to watch TV or cartoons.
College wasn’t what I had imagined—it often felt like hell. Sure, I had more freedom, but there were so many nights when I cried myself to sleep. It didn’t help that I didn’t even like my course. I felt like a robot, just going through the motions. I couldn’t bring myself to speak up to my parents, and I felt completely alone. Even after graduating, things didn’t get better. In fact, they got worse. I struggled to find a job. I was terrified. I didn’t know where to start or where to go. I felt lost.
I couldn’t even find the courage to ask for help, so I went through it all alone.
But through it all, I learned to embrace my independence.
I know that who I am today is because of everything I’ve been through, and I wouldn’t change any of it. I’ve always felt alone—back then, and even now. But the difference is, I think I understand myself better. I’m still alone most of the time, but I don’t feel lonely as much anymore.
