the outsider

I don’t know when it happened—

when I stopped feeling like part of the group

and started feeling like background noise.

A familiar face

with nothing left to say.

It’s strange,

because this used to be home.

These people,

this rhythm of laughter and inside jokes—

they used to hold me.

Now it’s like I’m just there,

on the edge,

watching a version of something

I used to belong to.

I try to smile at the right moments.

I laugh when I’m supposed to.

I answer questions like I’m fine.

But the truth is,

I feel like a ghost in my own circle.

No one did anything wrong.

It’s not a betrayal.

Not some dramatic falling out.

Just a slow, quiet fading—

and now I’m the one

that always seems slightly too far away.

I keep trying to convince myself

that it’s just in my head.

That I’m overthinking,

that it’s a phase,

that I’ll feel connected again.

But deep down, I know.

I know when I’m not being seen.

When the room moves without me.

And damn, it hurts.

Worse than I’ll ever admit.

I miss the way it used to feel.

The ease.

The certainty.

The warmth.

Now, I mostly keep it to myself.

I tell everyone I’m just tired,

or busy,

or distracted.

But really,

I’m just quietly grieving a place

I still sit in—

but no longer feel at home.