I Don’t Know If This Is Peace or Just Loneliness

There’s a question that’s been haunting me lately:

If no one is interested in you as a person, and you always do things by yourself — what do you call it? Is it peace… or loneliness?

People love to say there’s power in being alone, that knowing how to be content with your own company is a kind of strength. And maybe that’s true for some. But for me, sometimes it doesn’t feel like strength at all. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like a choice. It’s just how things are.

Silence doesn’t always come with comfort. Some days it feels heavy, like it’s pressing on my chest, filled with endless what-ifs. The kind that creep in when I’m trying to sleep, or when I’m walking home, or when I catch myself staring at my phone with no one to text. Somewhere along the way, the line between solitude and isolation got blurry, and I honestly can’t tell anymore whether I’ve found peace in my own space… or if I’ve just quietly disappeared into the background, unseen and forgotten.

I know I’m not perfect. I mess up, I overthink, I sometimes make things harder than they need to be. But I also know I’m not a bad person. I try — every single day — to be kind. To listen. To show up. To make space for others when they need it. And still, deep down, there’s this doubt I can’t shake: What if I’m the reason people don’t stay? What if I push them away without realizing? What if I’ll always be too much — or not enough?

The mind is cruel in the way it keeps memories. Nostalgia feels like both a comfort and a curse. Sometimes it reassures me, It’s okay, you’ve grown, you’ve changed, but other times it whispers, Was it supposed to end up this way?And honestly, it hurts to think about it.

No matter how many people I’ve been around, no matter how many friend groups I’ve drifted in and out of, I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere. Everyone else seemed to have that one person — their safe place. Someone they could collapse into without needing to explain a thing. I saw it in the way they laughed together, in how they leaned on each other without hesitation, as if their place was never questioned.

And I can’t help but wonder: What does that feel like?

To be chosen. To be the one someone never hesitates about. To know you’re not just an option, but the place someone always returns to.

Just once, I wished I knew.

I tell myself I have enough. I have family. I have friends. I remind myself of these things like a mantra. But late at night, the questions still come. What if I had the life I always wanted? What if I was unforgettable to someone? What if I wasn’t just a backup plan — a backburner friend, remembered only when convenient?

Because being an afterthought hurts in a way I can’t even put into words.

So I learned to carry it quietly. To smile when I need to, laugh when it’s expected, hold myself together when all I wanted was to fall apart. Pretending felt easier than explaining. Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that needing no one was safer. That if I ignored the loneliness long enough, maybe it would just fade into nothing.

But the truth is, it never did. And I still find myself asking, again and again:

Is this really peace… or is it just loneliness, disguised to look like strength?