I’m twenty-seven years old, and since April, I’ve been living alone for the first time. I moved out of my mother’s house and went far away to São Paulo. This is particularly ironic because I dislike city life, yet I felt a need for new experiences. Despite appreciating her, living with my mother isolated me from everything, making me embarrassed to go out or meet new people. Here, in the cold indifference of the city, that feeling has faded.

However, the years of isolation have left me socially inept. I find myself feeling sad and powerless because I can’t make new friends. When trying to interact with people, I feel the words slipping through my fingers like sand, and my mind feels completely empty. This city offers no solace; instead, it magnifies my inadequacies. Unless my mind is clouded by alcohol, I find myself unable to articulate even the simplest of thoughts. This feels (and is) pathetic.

After some time, I finally met someone I cared about. For the first time, I fell in love, and for the first time, I had my heart broken. For the first time I felt the sweetness of genuine affection, only for it to turn sour. I’m still not perfectly fine. This city has thrust upon me a kaleidoscope of emotions, ones I had long believed myself incapable of experiencing. I realized I’m more sensitive than I thought. My cold demeanor was just a way to avoid connections and potential hurt. When that girl broke through my barriers, all my pent-up emotions came flooding out, and I could barely hold myself together. My constructed self-image was in ruins. My isolation, which I thought as perceived strength, had eroded my ability to connect with others. As a consequence, I barely know how to talk to people, especially those I’m unfortunately romantically interested in.

Now, for the first time, I’m truly “feeling life” as anyone should, in all its chaotic, painful beauty. And this newfound vulnerability is terrifying. I’m still cautious about showing and sharing my feelings, about being honest with them. In one of the single times I was forward about my feelings, I was discarded and ignored. But perhaps there's a way to reconcile the person I was with the person I am becoming.

I wonder if I’ll ever be adequate or finally accepted by a special someone, even with all my strangeness. To be fair, I’m not terribly optimistic.