Society often think being a loner means being lonely.
But I’ve never been lonelier than when I was trying to belong fit in.
Shrinking myself to fit the room.
Softening the edges,
Swallowing my fiRe
Playing nice to be polite.

I’m an extrovert. I love to talk. Dance. Connect.
I can light up a room and leave it burning.
But I’ve spent most of my life outside the square box, not in it.
Not because I couldn’t join—but because I refused to conform, or bleed for comfort acceptance.

Being a loner doesn’t mean I don’t like people.
It means I’ve seen what it costs to stay in the wrong room.
It means I’ve sat in silence long enough to enjoy my own company,
and decided peace matters more than walking on eggshells pretending.

I’m not afraid of connection—I crave it.
But only when it’s real, vulnerable, messy and raw.
And when it doesn’t ask demand me to lie about who I am.

I won’t barter my soul for a sense of belonging.
I won’t trade my truth for a seat at someone else’s table, or
to make you feel comfortable.

I walk alone 
not because I’m lonely lost
but because I know where I refuse to go.

Ever walked out of a room and realised you finally felt free?

© Samira Wyld 2025