You can be in a room full of people and feel like the only inhabitant of a private planet. Not lonely—oh no, that would require longing—but singular, spectacularly self-contained.

Sometimes I wonder: is my body here, and my mind elsewhere? Or my mind here, and my body wandering off somewhere? I can’t remember; I always forget. Never mind—I’ll ask myself the next time I pass by.

It’s the oddest kind of company: everyone is talking, moving, vibrating with existence, and you… are somewhere else entirely. Observing, noting, laughing internally at your own thoughts, which are impossible to share because they’re too precise, too petty, too deliciously particular.

Sometimes I think being alone in a crowd is like having Wi-Fi in the middle of a desert: useless to everyone else, but perfect for me.

It doesn’t depress me; it doesn’t nag at me. It’s the softest kind of autonomy, a temporary cloak I wear over the chaos of connection. The world spins, conversations ripple outward, and I float quietly in my own orbit, watching everything without the obligation of participation.

And the funniest part? It’s completely unnoticed. Not because I hide, but because no one can see this kind of alone—it doesn’t have a shape, doesn’t need a voice, doesn’t interrupt anyone else’s narrative. 

It is, simply, mine.

There’s more waiting at https://xinkblotz.com. Telling stories, sharing thoughts, and drinking coffee. A blend of fiction, reflection, and whatever’s brewing – one post at a time.