hell is other people

"Hell is people" or whatever Jean-Paul Sartre meant by that. For me, my hell IS indeed people.

So I seek comfort in my silent solitude.

No matter the amount of times I try to say no, I either don't or I let others' opinions rule—not because of weakness but rather tiredness or in other words...no energy reserve for drama. The constant calculations: Is this battle worth the aftermath? Will standing my ground cost more than surrender? The mental mathematics of human interaction exhausts me more than the confrontation itself.

I hate loneliness yet I choose it as my retreat away from people. From their micromanaging. From losing control over my OWN life. This paradox defines me—craving connection while fleeing from it, needing solitude while aching in its emptiness. My sanctuary and my prison share the same walls.

So yeah, my hell is people.

My hell is people not getting me or understanding my views. The constant misinterpretations, the way my words transform in their minds into something I never meant. The assumptions about my intentions. The projection of their fears onto my actions.

I stopped explaining. There comes a point where silence becomes not just easier, but more dignified than endless justification. I've reached that point. The energy saved from not explaining myself can now be channeled into creating a life worth living—even if that life must be built within carefully guarded boundaries.