They ask me, "Why are you always alone?" And I smile, Because it's not sadness. I love the quiet. I like being alone. I really do. The quiet feels honest, like I can just exist without pretending. But sometimes, the same silence I love turns into something heavier. It starts to sound like every word I never said, every person 1 pushed away. I want someone to understand me without needing to explain, but I also don't want to be seen too closely. So I stay in this in-between: half wanting connection, half terrified of it. It's strange, craving solitude and fearing loneliness at the same time. Like wanting warmth, but always standing just far enough from the fire.