We all belong here.

I had gotten used to being alone. I had moved far away from those who I would have once considered friends.
I knew they were never real, just there out of circumstance.

I realised I never belonged.

Growing out of my teens, being alone gave me time to reflect on all the pain I had endured from people. Forced to continue living in the shackles of the traumatic past, never letting me walk free.

In a way, loneliness has been bittersweet, allowing me to grow and search for all the missing pieces that were forced to be silent. The love I never felt, the trust I never had, the safety I was never given.

I have been forced to carry everything alone, forced me to keep myself going even when I was crumbling, but I feel more lost then ever, like I am too much for people, that I feel too much.

Maybe that’s why
I’ll always be alone.

The more I search for them,
the friends I yearn for
that choose me,
that aren’t afraid to show love,
that put in the same effort and care…
they may never come.
And I continue to drown in that thought of loneliness everyday.

Hiraeth: (especially in the context of Wales or Welsh culture) is a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return.

https://youtube.com/shorts/wKonEU1gIsE

Where was I when everyone else was making friends?
and will there be a catch up session for those of us who missed it?

Solitude by the Shore- this is the name of the photo I took of my friend.
This photograph is more than just a portrait for me, it’s a reflection of the quiet struggles that often go unnoticed in life. My friend sits on a rock, still and beautiful, yet there’s a weight in her expression, a sadness in her eyes that echoes the vast, endless ocean behind her. The ocean becomes a metaphor for the mind—deep, unpredictable, sometimes calm, sometimes turbulent. I  see mental health like this scene: moments of stillness on the surface while emotions move like unseen currents beneath. The solitude in this image is both peaceful and isolating, a reminder that even in the most breathtaking settings, someone can still feel lost. Through this photo, I want to highlight the quiet strength in vulnerability, and the importance of acknowledging the depths within ourselves and others.

The quietness is something like misplacing something warm and familiar, something you didn't realise you reached for so often until it wasn't there, like a hoodie that holds many memories.
It's the loss of routine and connection that subtly shape every single day, something comfortable that I didn't know I grew used to. In a place that is still new, the sense of stability means more than you realise, now navigating your days looks like getting used to the quiet and to trust that feeling lost is part of finding your rhythm again.