i like being alone .
An exhausting cycle
Part 1: i gotta stop being by myself all the time .
“hi.”
that’s how it begins. i’ll notice the little things about you. notice how you treat others. exchange numbers. help out once, twice, and ask for something for once. one call, many texts, more reels. the friendship starts building, one level after another. i hold onto words, choices, dislikes, some trauma of your past. “i’ll be here for you.” leave my work pending and give up some sleep. i’ll be here for you. i’ll hate someone, and you’ll hate that person too.
Part 2: i failed as a friend
“i’m sorry i wasn’t able to do that.” “i did not think of you. it slipped my mind.”
there we go, my words or yours. things like that hurt. i said i’m sorry.
“i care about you”
well, you keep forgetting me.
“i can stay on my own, you know.”
sometimes it’s my ego bruised, sometimes it’s just hurt with no hope. but most of the time, i keep waiting for a text saying, “i’m sorry, i care.”
but i said what i said, didn’t i?
“i can be alone.”
the big fat lie.
no, i cannot live alone. i need friends, and somehow making friends is exhausting.
not innocent anymore.
who called first, who texted first. i was left on seen. why?
saying “i need you” becomes tough, too vulnerable. the walls stand up too quickly. how quickly i step back. a little hurt.
i care for you. do you feel the same?
well, i’ll never know that.
Part 3: let’s settle for surface-level friendship
“hi.”
“hey.”
“assignments?”
“yeah, done. i got two prints. one for you, one for me.”
“yeh hai dosti!”
thought it was deeper than that. help me somewhere, i’ll pay you back somewhere else.
i was hoping for something else. maybe i can trust you with my biggest smiles? maybe you can understand why i’ve missed out on so much. okay, i get it, that’s a lot.
but if i get stuck, feeling bad for myself, my school friends aren’t here. maybe you’ll understand me?
maybe all those missed-out moments will become firsts with you.
is that too much to ask?
i know we just met.
am i really your friend?
what if nothing happens and we become strangers in a few months?
oh, that’s fine, you know.
“i can be by myself.”
you had a nickname for me. now it’s just my own name.
that’s fine.
“i love being alone.”
Part 4: all over again
“hey.”
“hi.”
“weren’t you close friends?”
“oh no, we just know each other well, but we aren’t that close.”
no more “i’ll be there for you” promises.
my walls are standing tall.
but i gotta start making some friends here.
Reading this felt strangely personal to me, esp the way the whole thing keeps looping back to the line "I can be alone" slowly turning from reassurance into something almost defensive. I really liked how you structured it like a cycle instead of a clean emotional progression, because that's honestly how this kind of thing works in real life too. You don't "learn your lesson" once and become detached forever. You try again, you overextend again, you get hurt again, then convince yourself you're better off keeping things surface level, until this loneliness itself starts feeling heavier than the fear of disappointment. And the little shifts in language throughout the post were painfully accurate. Like the transition from "I'll be here for you" to "we just know each other well" says so much. Even the nickname becoming "just my own name" hit so hard.
And honestly, while reading this, I kept getting reminded of how behind every "I love being alone" is usually a story that taught someone not to expect too much and this statement I read elsewhere "I did not stop believing in people overnight. I simply ran out of ways to excuse being forgotten". Also the "Who called first, who texted first, i was left on seen. Why?" part especially got to me because once you become hyper aware of reciprocity, friendships stop feeling natural and start feeling measurable, almost like you're constantly checking whether you exist in someone's life with the same weight they exist in yours. And the sad thing is, once that awareness enters, it becomes really difficult to go back to innocent friendship again. That line "a little hurt", I can say it was not "a little".
Also from the POV of someone who mostly got approached when people needed something from me academically, like notes, doubts, assignments, last minute teaching before exams, all of that. And for a long time, I confused usefulness with closeness. I think that's why lines like "Help me somewhere, I'll pay you back somewhere else" and "maybe all those missed-out moments will become firsts with you" felt very real and relatable. There's this weird loneliness in being emotionally available and dependable while simultaneously feeling replaceable. Like you become everyone's comfort place but nobody's destination, and you answered every call until you realised that yours went unanswered. And your post captures that specific exhaustion really well without turning bitter. That's what I appreciated most about it, like you never villainized the other people involved. Even the hurt here feels hesitant, like someone still trying to understand whether they expected too much or just wanted to matter a little more clearly.
And weirdly, I don't even think your post is only about friendship. I think it's also about how self-protection slowly reshapes personality over time. The walls in Part 4 feel like someone adapting. "No more "I'll be there for you" promises" genuinely felt sad because it reads less like growth and more like someone rationing emotional investment after too many unfinished attachments. But I also think there's something quietly hopeful in the fact that the post still ends with "but I gotta start making some friends here". Because despite everything, there's still some part of you that believes connection is worth attempting again. And honestly, I think that's much harder than becoming fully detached. Once again, such a good read, and looks like my comment is already long, so I'll just end it here
Protecting yourself becomes second nature.