I'm Not Anyone's Person and I Hate That

“I thought you were a bad person because you don’t have friends.” Or was it, “I thought you were a bad person because no one comes to see you”?

I can’t remember the exact words, but they’ve stuck with me ever since.

We were in the middle of one of those chaotic, no-head-no-tail gist sessions, and that’s when she said it. I looked at my other roommate and laughed incredulously because what a random thing to say?

Whatever made you think that? I thought.

I didn’t get mad. She’s one of those people who constantly says things that leave you puzzled. But the statement lodged itself in my brain, probably because I’ve been deeply insecure about my lack of close friends and how that ties into whether I’m even likeable in the first place.

Last year, I realized I really don’t have close friends. It crept up on me, the way realizations do. I’d watch my roommates’ friends pour into our room every day. Whenever there was a knock, it was rarely for me.

Not that I minded. I like my space. I value solitude even more when I’m in school and constantly surrounded by people. But even though I liked being on my own, I started to wonder how it looked from the outside, especially after my roommate’s comment.

Do people think I’m not a good person to be friends with? Do they think I’m cold? Unapproachable? Weird?

A particularly rocky friendship played a big role in exacerbating my insecurity. We fell out regularly, and these arguments or misunderstandings resulted in us not talking at all until I reached out to clear the air. It was a constant cycle. We'd argue, get offended by actions or words misinterpreted, ignore each other for a while, numbers would be blocked then unblocked, and I'd break the ice by starting up a conversation or going to talk to her. What hurt most was realizing that she was always ready to cut me off while I kept trying to hold things together. I tried to match her unbothered energy a lot. "I don't care if we don't talk again." I'd lie to myself. But I'm unfortunately a very chalant girl. I don't know how to be unbothered for the life of me. It takes so much effort to ignore people(unless you REALLY wronged me).

Eventually, I got tired. Tired of being the reconciler. Tired of swallowing my pride for someone who hardly ever met me halfway.

I slowly and reluctantly accepted that maybe just maybe she just didn’t care.

That truth had been whispering itself to me for a long time. I just didn’t want to listen. But once I did, it was easier to let go. We haven’t spoken since. Just like that, it ended. A rocky chapter finally closed.

Then, not long after, I lost another friend. I said something that rubbed him the wrong way, and instead of talking to me, he screenshot our chat and posted it on his WhatsApp status and insulted me like I was a stranger. No warning. No explanation. Just public humiliation.

I apologized once I realized I’d offended him, but I never got a response. I tried to speak to him in person but he walked away.

It was confusing and painful, but it also made me angry.

If something I said upset you, why not talk to me about it? Why is every conflict always taken to an extreme?

That was my breaking point. I blocked him and moved on. (When I later found out he told a mutual friend to “get me on a leash,” I stopped feeling bad altogether.)

I wasn’t going to keep fighting for friendships with people who treated me like I was disposable.

I finally broke down. I sobbed in front of my mom and told her how lonely I felt. I told her I didn’t think anyone liked me. She listened. And I cried again when it was time to return to school.

School had started to feel like the loneliest place in the world ironically because I was always surrounded by people.

Talking about loneliness is weirdly embarrassing. I don’t know why. Maybe because admitting you care makes you feel small. Or because it sounds like self-pity even though it’s not.

I’m not looking for a six-person girl group. I just want one person who wants to talk to me as much as I want to talk to them.

These feelings might not be logical. I know I have friends. I wave at people, and they wave back. I joke and chat with people all the time. But it’s the insidious feeling of not being anyone’s person that bothers me.

I wish I had some profound insight to end this with. But I don’t.

Maybe one day I won’t feel alone in a crowded room.

Maybe I will.

Who knows?