On Belonging
I keep wondering what makes me want to belong so badly. I mean, I have family who cares about me—they check in, they ask how I’m doing. I have friends I can talk to. And yet... there’s still something pulling at me. A quiet ache. A desire to be seen, to be heard, and to be—well—belonged. (LOL.)
I want someone to love me.
Truly love me—for who I am.
Not just the way I look, or the way I think, but also the weird little quirks I don’t know how to turn off. I want to connect with a group of people who actually see me, who enjoy being around me not because I fit a box, but because something just clicks.
Not through racial identity. Not through queer identity. I don’t want the group that celebrates me for those things—I want the group that simply includes me without making it a headline. That values my opinions. That laughs with me. That just... fits.
Sometimes I notice my friends finding comfort in groups that reflect one specific identity.
Some feel safest surrounded by people who look like them (does that sound racist? I don’t mean it like that).
Some of my gay friends only hang out with other gay friends because they say straight people are lame.
And then I have the friends who just want to play video games all day.
But What Am I Really Seeking?
I don’t want to bond with someone just because we share one strong identity marker. I want to exist in a space where people get along—not because of shared labels or mutual judgment, but because there’s genuine ease, mutual care, and unspoken warmth.
I actually love blending cultures, feeling everything all at once. I’m constantly impressed by how beautifully interconnected the world has become. Cultures intertwine now in ways that feel both seamless and electric. It’s awesome.
And yet—I live in a quiet suburban town where people walk their dogs, eat sandwiches, poop on the lawn (well, their dogs do), pick it up, and walk away. Sometimes they check my sprinklers. It’s relaxed. It’s peaceful. And it’s... not enough.
Because I want the stillness of reading a book, playing piano in the afternoon sun.
But I also want the chaos of throwing a party with too many people in the kitchen, laughing over wine and absurd memories.
I want the silence and the noise. The simplicity and the magic.
I want everything.
But after being absent from social media for so long, it doesn’t feel good to post again. It feels strange—like putting myself back on display for an algorithm to sort and swipe. Dating apps feel especially hollow, like buying fleeting attraction. It’s oddly unsatisfying. Maybe I’ll just end up lonely forever, because I don’t want to settle for algorithmed love anymore.
it is funny how things have changed so much for me, I used to post on social apps like crazy, but now I sound like a sad monk.
Even my friend Robert said: “No, Don’t use dating apps— Be Lonely!“ (of course he was being sarcastic)
And my coworker told me: “Yah, Rufus— Just wait for that Pizza boy to knock your door tomorrow.“ (But I only order through DoorDash now…)
Maybe… I am meant to be alone? Ugh— I’d kill for a boyfriend right now, but not just anyone. HAHAHA
