A reflection on the quiet ache of connection, and how learning to trust begins with ourselves
I often wonder how it’s possible to feel so low — so beneath yourself — while others seem to be walking above you on stilts, untouched by the everyday anxieties you wish would disappear.
But then you realize: there are far fewer stilted people in the world than you think. And most of them aren’t balanced at all. Many would fall if given the chance. Yet because of our egocentric view of the world — this belief that those who appear “above us” must somehow be bad or unreachable — we refuse to hold out our arms to catch them.
And many of them do fall.
We fear being alone. But we also fear being around strangers.
And what even makes someone a stranger? Do we truly know the person in front of us? Or do we simply fear the possibility of being abandoned by someone we’ve dared to call a friend?
Often, it’s not the person that frightens us — it’s the memory of what could go wrong.
The anticipation of future complications, shaped by prior experiences, keeps us distant. And what we miss in the process is this: the stranger sitting across from you may be feeling the exact same fear. Neither of you even think to ask. And in that silence, a void of disconnect grows.
The fear of being alone.
The fear of making new friends.
The fear of trusting someone with what is essentially your life.
It’s terrifying.
But that’s okay.
The world is meant to be terrifying… and overcoming.
It’s natural to feel that being alone isn’t okay — because somewhere deep down, there’s a worry that we might cease to exist if we are not observed by others.
But in forgetting this, we overlook something profound: by existing, we are observing ourselves.
We lose sight of the fact that we, too, occupy space in this world — that our presence matters just as much as anyone else’s. We are not invisible.
So this idea — that the universe is a dangerous place — it’s not true.
How can the universe be dangerous unless we have become dangerous to ourselves?
If you can allow yourself to love your very essence, you will begin to fall in love with the universe, too. Because your essence is the universe. There’s no separation.
When we fear the universe, we are often just fearing our own inner self — and that fear projects outward onto others. But the truth is, there’s nothing to fear.
Believe what you want.
Be who you are.
Understand yourself.
Because in doing so, you open the door to love — both for yourself and for the world around you.
Make friends with yourself first. And you’ll find it easier to make friends with others.
You’ll find it easier to see people without judgment. To meet their gaze without fear. To extend love — even when intrusive thoughts arise — because they will pass. And love will remain.
Not just love for the person.
But love for the human.
It’s okay to make new friends —
With yourself.
And with others.
