We all belong here.

Loneliness doesn’t always arrive loudly.
It moves in quietly, settling in the cracks grief leaves behind.
It found me after I lost my grandmother - in the stillness of rooms that once felt full.
It followed me to university, where crowds buzzed around me and I floated outside of it all. For me, loneliness lives inside transitions - the spaces between what was and what is. It’s not just the absence of people, but the immense weight of memories.
And yet, even in its heaviness, loneliness reminds me:
How lucky am I to have loved someone and something so much to feel the loss of it all.

I am surrounded by you but feel no warmth

I am next to you but still so far

I see your joy and happiness but can't seem to share it

It breaks me, makes me hate me and leads at times to despair

I am lost and lonely nowadays it just feels like me, myself, and I.

One of the reasons why I’m afraid of growing up
Is when I’ll forget how to spell your name
Or when our interactions are only memories
That can never ever be re-enact

They forgot to tell us;
Or maybe, they wanted to spare us the pain
But they never told us; how odd it is
To go from ‘seeing everyone everyday’
To ‘never seeing anyone anymore’

To wake up one day and realise that everyone is growing,
Into someone I don’t know
Probably someone I’ll never know

To have them smile and cry with others
But not me
Not with me anymore

Then to see myself moving away
From what I knew
From what I was
Cause I grew
And they also grew

Why didn’t the adults ever warn us;
That growing up was this heavy on our hearts.

I wrote this song about my first “true” heartbreak. It explores the emotions and complexity of love from a particularly chaotic standpoint, caught in a battle of decisions with no clear answer. Is there peace in moving on? Is there courage in fighting to preserve? Will she open the door for me again?
*This song has some explicit words which are not censored. Take care when listening.*

I still don’t know what I want to do with my life. I started working about three or four years ago, joining a graduate program with the federal government. It seemed like the right step at the time, but I didn’t finish it—I moved on to another job.

I’ve always been passionate about improving communities and helping others, which is why I thought the government would be the right place for me. I believed my skills and values would fit perfectly in that environment, but I was wrong. The bureaucracy was suffocating, and the endless waiting for senior management to take action was maddening. It felt like I was stuck in a loop, watching time slip by while nothing changed.

What frustrated me even more was that my colleagues—both the senior ones and even the ones around my age—seemed fine with it. They were content with the stability, and I couldn’t understand why. I was angry. I was ready for action, but it felt like I was the only one who really cared.

So, I moved to the private sector, hoping it would be faster-paced, more dynamic. But even there, it didn’t feel right. It was a for-profit company, and something about working for ""the man"" didn’t sit well with me. I had expected more, but instead, I found myself still disillusioned.

As someone who is neurodiverse, it’s even more frustrating. There are so many unwritten rules, office manners, and etiquette that just don’t make sense to me. Every day feels like I’m playing pretend, trying to fit into a system that doesn’t come naturally. It’s exhausting.

The loneliness in all of this is overwhelming. I’m someone who cares deeply about making things better, about improving systems, yet it feels like workplaces just don’t share that same drive. It’s hard to be surrounded by people who don’t care, especially when you’re putting in so much energy yourself.

The office culture isn’t great either. I want to connect with people, to hear their stories and share my own, but I find that others prefer to keep to themselves. I get it—it’s okay—but it’s demotivating for me when no one seems to match my energy. I’m passionate and eager, but it feels like I’m alone in that. It’s hard to keep pushing forward when you don’t feel seen or heard.

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