It’s really unsettling to feel unnoticed among a group of people. You can hear the laughter, see the movements, and feel the excitement, yet it doesn’t connect with you. It’s as if you’re tuned into a different channel. You walk among them, nodding politely and wearing a mask you've learned to show in public, while a calm but painful feeling pushes against your sides.
People glance at you and maybe even smile, but it’s fleeting. Just a quick glance. No one lingers long enough to really ask how you’re doing—not in a way that counts. You answer automatically with, “I’m fine,” or, “Everything’s good. ” These are lies dressed up as courteous responses. Because the truth feels too painful, and you’re not sure if anyone even wants to hear it.
You navigate through the noise, a steady presence in a changing scene. Watching people interact, talk openly, brush against one another, and share laughter. Their lives seem so vibrant. Yours feels like a lonely island next to them—close enough to view but too far to reach. You find yourself thinking about what it would feel like to be understood without words, to be sensed without having to explain, and to feel embraced—not physically, but just by someone’s presence.
At times, you crave a conversation that doesn’t end in uncomfortable quietness or meaningless small talk. A fleeting moment when someone stops for long enough to see beyond your eyes and into your true feelings. Yet, most people are either too occupied, too distracted, or too focused on their own lives to realize.
So, you keep moving, smiling, and pretending to fit in. Yet, deep down, you’re waiting. For someone to join you without feeling the need to fill the space with chatter. For someone to stay. For someone to see that you’re lonely—not because you’re by yourself, but because no one is truly with you.
