I think I’m starting to understand why I’ve always struggled to fit in with people my age. I never really had a proper…
I think I’m starting to understand why I’ve always struggled to fit in with people my age.
I never really had a proper childhood, and recently I’ve been trying to get closer to my peers and allow myself to experience the parts of growing up that I feel like I missed. For a while, I thought maybe being around people my age and letting myself be less serious would bring some of that back.
And I won’t pretend I haven’t enjoyed parts of it. A part of me genuinely has. There’s something comforting about finally feeling included and allowing myself to be immature sometimes, especially when I never really got the chance to be when I was younger. But I’m also starting to realise that temporary pleasure can become a very expensive distraction when you stop thinking about where it might eventually lead you.
There’s a difference between bringing out your inner child and shrinking your mind just so you can feel included.
I don’t think I’m better or more mature than anyone else. Everyone grows differently and everyone is figuring themselves out at their own pace. I’m just realising that certain environments bring out versions of me that don’t align with the person I actually want to become.
The more I try to fit into spaces that don’t reflect who I am, the more I understand why I became comfortable being alone in the first place. Not everyone thinks the way you do, values what you value, or considers consequences in the same way. If you constantly change yourself for companionship, eventually you can end up dealing with consequences that last much longer than the temporary feeling of belonging ever did.
You can’t relive what has already passed. Sometimes you have to grieve the childhood you didn’t get instead of trying to recreate it through people who can’t give it back to you.
I’d rather be alone and completely myself than surrounded by people and slowly lose the person I worked so hard to become.
Some things aren’t meant to be relived. They’re meant to be accepted, mourned and finally left where they belong.