I don’t remember when exactly it started feeling like this.
Maybe it was gradual.
Maybe nothing “happened” at all.
I’m CH. Third-year engineering student.
If someone looks at my life from outside, it’s… fine.
I go to college.
I come back.
I study.
I repeat.
There’s nothing wrong with it.
But there’s also nothing in it that feels… alive.
People talk around me all the time.
About assignments, internships, random gossip, relationships, plans.
I respond when needed. I smile sometimes. I exist in those spaces.
But it always feels like I’m slightly outside the moment.
Like I’m watching things instead of being part of them.
Connections exist. But not really.
There are a few people I talk to.
They matter to me, in a quiet way.
It’s not like I don’t want to make connections.
I do.
But somewhere along the way, I became… selective.
Not consciously. Not deliberately.
It’s like there’s something inside me that decides before I do.
Something that:
accepts or rejects things
pulls me closer or pushes me away
filters everything before I even understand why
And I just… follow it.
Sometimes I wonder if it’s protecting me.
Or isolating me.
I don’t know.
Sometimes I wonder if something is missing in me.
Because everyone else seems to:
belong somewhere
feel something strongly
move toward something
And I just… move through days.
Not sad.
Not happy.
Just… nothing.
I’ve tried to understand it.
Tried to trace it back to something — anything.
Maybe it’s family.
But even at home, conversations feel like formalities.
Words are exchanged, not shared.
Maybe it’s love.
But I don’t feel drawn to it.
Not because I reject it… just because nothing in me moves toward it.
Maybe it’s belief, religion, meaning.
I was born into it, surrounded by it —
but none of it stayed.
No connection. No resistance either.
Just… absence.
So I stopped trying to define what’s missing.
Sometimes I sit in the garden.
Not for any reason. Just to be somewhere that isn’t my room.
I put on music, hoping it will change something.
Shift something. Fill something.
For a few moments, it almost works.
But then, somewhere between the noise in my ears
and the silence inside me…
I feel it again.
That strange distance.
Like I don’t belong to the world around me.
Like I’m present, but not placed anywhere.
And that realization… it should hurt.
Maybe it does, somewhere.
But I don’t feel it the way I think I should.
Because everything is still blank.
There are thoughts in my mind.
Questions I’ve already asked.
Answers I’ve already found.
About people.
About connection.
About meaning.
About why things feel the way they do.
It’s not confusion anymore.
It’s clarity.
And maybe that’s what makes it heavier.
Because I can’t say I don’t understand.
I do.
I understand that:
not every connection becomes real
not everyone finds “their people" easily
some lives just stay quiet
I understand all of it.
I’ve already accepted it… at least logically.
But I don’t know what to do with that acceptance.
Where does it go?
How does it change anything?
It just sits there, inside me, like everything else.
Unmoved.
There are moments, though.
Small ones.
Like sitting in a classroom when everyone is busy talking,
and I’m just looking out the window.
Or walking back home when the road is quieter than usual.
Or hearing a song that should mean something.
In those moments, something almost feels like it’s about to surface.
Like a feeling is trying to form.
But it doesn’t.
It just fades before it becomes anything.
“Somewhere between noise and silence, I stayed,
Not lost enough to be found,
Not whole enough to be seen.
I learned the answers before I felt the questions,
And carried truths I didn’t know how to live with.”
I don’t hate my life.
That’s the strange part.
If I did, maybe I would try to change it.
But this isn’t pain.
It’s not even dissatisfaction.
It’s just… blank.
Like pages that were never written on.
People say things change with time.
That you’ll meet the right people.
Find something meaningful.
Feel things deeply.
Maybe.
Or maybe life just continues like this,
quiet and uneventful, without ever really shifting.
Maybe some people are meant to experience life loudly.
And some… just observe it quietly.
I don’t have an answer.
I don’t have a plan to fix anything.
Tomorrow will probably look like today.
I’ll wake up, go to college, come back, and study.
Sit in the same places.
Hear the same kind of conversations.
Feel the same kind of nothing.
Not because I’m chasing something.
Just because… that’s what comes next.
And maybe that’s all this is right now.
A life that isn’t broken.
But isn’t filled either.
Just existing somewhere in between.
Aware.
Present.
And still… not quite here.
And still… not quite here.
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