How to understand this world?

My Dear Stranger,

People have always scared me.

Not in the loud, obvious ways—but in the quiet ones.

I grew up learning how to feel people before I learned how to understand them.

I sensed the moment their energy shifted, when smiles stopped reaching their eyes,

when pain hid beneath their words like an unspoken language.

That awareness stayed with me.

It made me gentle.

It made me tired.

It made me afraid—

because I learned early that people can change without warning, and sometimes without reason.

My Dear Stranger,

Even now, I still don’t fully understand this world—

Why do people do the things they do?

What drives them to believe so fiercely in certain choices, even when those choices hurt others?

The older I get, the more I learn.

And the more I learn, the more awake I become—yet strangely, the more lost I feel.

The more I see, the more confused I become.

The more I question everything, the further I retreat into myself,

seeking quiet as a form of safety.

The harder I try to belong,

The clearer it becomes that I never wanted—and never will want—a life filled with drama, conflict, dirty politics, constant competition, gossip, selfish relationships, arrogance, or hollow religiosity.

I’ve never understood;

Why can’t we simply be kinder, less judgmental toward one another,

Why compassion feels so rare.

Maybe all it takes is trying—just once in a while—until kindness becomes habit.

All we need to do is lower our pride, soften our ego.

I can imagine how much lighter this world could be.

I truly believe the world would be gentler, happier, if people chose understanding over judgment—

If they stopped acting as though they knew everything about everyone’s life.

My Dear Stranger,

You won’t get it—

How happy I am when I finally have the chance to be alone,

to not meet people for months.

Solitude heals me. It lets my nervous heart rest,

my senses unclench, my soul, breathe without armor.

And yet, at the same time, it drowns me.

Because in the quiet, there is no distraction from feeling,

no escape from memory, no noise to soften the weight of being.

Still, I choose it.

Again and again.

Because even when solitude pulls me under,

It is the only place where I feel honest, whole, and real.

Your stranger,

Vie