The noise

 Sometimes you have to stand in the emptiness of your own company to realize you were never really empty—just surrounded by people who never filled you. There’s a quiet kind of truth that surfaces when the noise fades and the room feels too still. You start to notice how much of yourself you gave away trying to be understood, accepted, or loved by people who only saw the surface of you. The silence can feel sharp at first, almost unbearable, but slowly it becomes a space where your heart starts to breathe again. In that stillness, you begin to see that being alone was never the problem—it was being unseen while you weren’t.

And when that realization sinks in, something changes. You stop craving company for the sake of not feeling lonely and start craving connection that feels like home. You begin to choose peace over presence, depth over distraction. The emptiness that once frightened you becomes a sacred place where your spirit rebuilds itself. You learn that solitude isn’t a void—it’s a vessel. And in filling it with your own laughter, your own thoughts, your own love, you finally understand: you were never lacking—you were just waiting to meet yourself without all the noise.