In today’s world, love and friendship feel less like heartfelt connections and more like expired coupons—use them while they last because, apparently, they’re not meant to stick around. Relationships used to feel like a cozy home. Now, they’re like a temporary Airbnb—people come, stay for a while, and leave without notice. Trust me, I’ve been through it all.
I’ve seen people walk out of my life without a word, like they’re participating in some silent marathon. No explanations, no closure—just an empty space where they used to be. And the worst part? It hurts. It’s like signing up for a mystery thriller where I’m left guessing, “What did I do wrong this time?” Back in the day, people stayed, fought for bonds, and valued connections. Now? It’s like they’re swiping left on relationships, hoping for the next “perfect” one. Spoiler alert: perfection doesn’t exist—except maybe in pizza.
Take friendships, for example. Remember when friends stuck around for the good, bad, and ugly? Now, if you’re not the “happy-go-lucky” version of yourself, you’re ghosted faster than a bad Wi-Fi connection. Feeling low? Forget about anyone checking in. It’s as if being sad makes you an unfit candidate for their life. It’s funny in a tragic way—like auditioning for the role of a friend and failing because your “good vibes” are temporarily out of stock.
A close friend once told me, “I don’t want to be a burden to anyone.” And while I get it, I couldn’t help but wonder: is that what friendship has become? A burden? When did we start tiptoeing around each other’s lives like we’re fragile glass figurines? The irony is that they don’t want to be a burden, but we all carry the same weight—unspoken emotions and unmet expectations.
And don’t even get me started on romance. It’s a game of emotional gymnastics, where people balance physical intimacy with emotional distance. “I’ll love my future wife,” one of my friends confidently declared. Oh, really? What about now? His strategy is to avoid emotions altogether, assuming his future spouse will just magically accept him, emotional baggage and all. Nice joke, right? Romance today is like ordering a gourmet meal, but all you get is the garnish—looks pretty, but there’s no substance.
And the options? Endless. Apps, social media, situationships—it’s like a buffet where no one’s ever satisfied. People keep sampling connections, hoping the next one will taste better. But love and friendship aren’t fast food, folks. They’re like biryani—you need patience, effort, and a little bit of spice to get them right.
I tried adapting to this world, thinking I could navigate this maze of emotions and detachment. Spoiler: it drained me faster than my phone battery on a bad day. Now, I’ve decided to take a back seat. I’m not a participant anymore. Instead, I’m the curious spectator at the circus, watching the juggling act of insecurities, fears, and endless scrolling. It’s entertaining—like watching a reality show where no one really wins.
But you know what? Despite all this chaos, I still believe in love and friendship. The real kind. The kind where people don’t walk away because things get tough. The kind that doesn’t demand you to be your best self all the time. I’ve realized I don’t need hundreds of connections; I just need a few that feel like home.
To all my fellow outsiders who feel the same, let’s keep believing in genuine relationships. And to those who’ve left without a reason—thanks for teaching me the value of people who actually stay. As for the rest? Well, carry on with your “perfect” lives, but do me a favor—when the loneliness creeps in, don’t blame bad luck or bad timing. Blame the fact that you treated relationships like an Amazon return policy. I’ll be over here, sipping my green tea and rooting for the day common sense makes a comeback.
Untangled Mind 