is it really peace — or is it loneliness?

There’s a fine line between solitude and isolation, one that isn’t always easy to distinguish. We often glorify the idea of being content with our own company, of finding peace in moments of quiet.

Just like a normal girl that I am, I grew up with several, different circle of friends. Most of them were already friends before they met me, or it is obvious that they’re the closest friends as if they cannot be separated. I wonder sometimes how they found someone like that. And so, those fleeting times came when I wished — just for a second — that my life was a little more like those people.

I’ve learned to live with the fact that I’m never anyone’s first choice.

It’s a truth I carry with me in silence. It doesn’t announce itself, but it’s there — an invisible scar that weighs on my heart, a subtle pain that I’ve never quite been able to shake. I used to embrace solitude, even find strength in it, but as time passes, I can’t help but wish for that one person who would pick me over everyone else.

The odd one, the backburner friend, the friend who gets noticed when one is missing. I notice it most in group settings — when friends naturally gravitate toward each other, unspoken bonds guiding them, like an instinctual understanding that I’m not part of. There’s no need to say it out loud, but it is clear: when it comes down to it, I’m never the one chosen first.

It’s a strange kind of loneliness, one that exists even in the company of others. I tell myself it’s okay, that not everyone gets to be the favorite, but every now and then, the quiet ache reminds me of what I’m missing.

I wonder what it feels like to be someone’s first choice, to be the person someone turns to, not out of convenience — but because they want to. It’s a small, persistent wish that lingers beneath the surface, even when I try to push it away.

As time passes, watching others experience the kind of effortless connection I long for can sometimes feel like looking into a world where I don’t quite belong. It’s not that I’m unwanted or unloved — it’s just that, when it comes to the things that matter most to people, I’m never the first thought. There’s always someone else they’d rather be with, someone else who completes their unspoken circle in a way I don’t.

Perhaps it’s a little lonely not to have someone who’d be interested to know what happens in your life, what you are up to, and someone who’d text you multiple times because they love talking to you. Even if it’s a formal, casual, or a silly talk — I would somehow love to have someone in the likes of that.

Sometimes I wonder if this feeling is about more than just being “the favorite.” Maybe it’s about validation, a longing to know that I am seen, understood, and valued in ways that aren’t fleeting. To be chosen first would mean more than just being preferred — it would mean being known, not just in the surface ways people know each other, but in the deeper ways where they see your fears, your quiet dreams, your hidden corners, and they still choose you.

And maybe, in some ways, this feeling has shaped me. It’s made me more observant, more empathetic. I know what it’s like to feel invisible in a crowded room, so I see others who might be feeling the same. I listen more deeply, because I know how much it can mean to have someone truly hear you. And while the ache is still there, perhaps it’s given me an understanding of connection that others might overlook — one that’s deeper, more patient, more aware of the quiet spaces between words.

But still, I can’t deny the longing. It’s not about needing constant reassurance or attention. It’s more about wanting to know that, to someone, I am irreplaceable — that there’s a place I hold in their life that no one else can fill. That even if everything else changes, they would still choose me, not out of habit, but out of choice. And as much as I try to tell myself that being second, or third, or just present, is enough, that tiny spark of hope for more never quite goes out.

In a way, I’ve come to terms with the fact that not everyone finds that person, or that moment. Some people live their lives on the periphery, and maybe that’s okay. Maybe we’re the ones who keep the world steady for others, the ones who listen, who wait, who understand without needing to be the center.

But even as I try to embrace that role, I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like — just once — to be the one that someone chooses first, to have my place in their heart be the one that’s never in question.

So, when the silence, becomes too loud — what will happen when the absence of others is less a choice and more a reflection of disconnection? If no one is truly interested in you as a person, and you’re left to always do things on your own — what do you call it? Is it peace… or is it loneliness?