It Hurts to Stay

They don’t know how horrible and exhausting it is to have to be around a group where you feel completely out of place. To be there, forcing yourself to go along with them just so you won’t be alone, and still feel lonelier than ever. To feel invisible, excluded, like an extra.

Sometimes they invite you to play or to talk, but it doesn’t feel genuine; it feels like they’re doing it out of pity, out of obligation, even knowing that you’ll probably turn them down. And even when you accept, it hurts more, because it forces you to be there with them while inside you’re breaking apart.

Not wanting to be with them because hearing their laughter, their jokes, and their fun only reminds you how foreign you feel, how little you belong. They’re having a good time, and you’re silently drowning, crying without anyone noticing, feeling completely alone even while you’re with them.

The worst part is not daring to say how you feel, because you know that in the end, the one who’s wrong is you. They’re not doing anything bad; they’re good people, even kind. So you blame yourself, you reproach yourself for feeling this way, for not understanding their jokes, for not knowing how to fit in, for being so emotionally clumsy. You convince yourself that it’s your fault, that you’re too stupid for something as simple as getting along with others, and that thought fills you with anger, shame, and helplessness. In the end, the only thing left to do is walk away—not because you want to, but because it hurts too much to stay.