The Cost of Not Fitting In

I’ve found myself here again — excluded, with no explanation.

No message.
No feedback.
No one reaching out.

And despite everything I offered — the honesty, the effort, the growth — it’s like I was quietly removed from the conversation. Others were offered spaces. I wasn’t. And no one thought I was worth an explanation.

It would be easier to say I’m overreacting. But I’m not.
It would be easier to say it’s just a mix-up. But it isn’t.
This is a pattern. And I see it clearly now.

There’s something about me that seems to unsettle institutions, tutors, systems.
I don’t fit the mold.
I speak up.
I don’t perform vulnerability — I live it.

Maybe I didn’t ask for enough help.
Maybe I didn’t appease enough.
Maybe I didn’t let them mold me into something smaller.

And maybe that’s the very reason I’ve been left out.

But I’m tired. I’m tired of wondering what I did wrong when deep down I know I showed up in full.
I stayed in my adult self through conflict.
I reflected deeply.
I adjusted where needed.
I kept choosing growth.

And still, I was excluded.

It hurts. Not because I needed the validation — but because I was honest. I was hopeful. I was real.

And now I sit with the grief. The anger. The disillusionment.
And underneath all of that… something surprising:

Relief.

Because I’d rather be rejected for who I really am than accepted for who I pretended to be.
Because I know now that being included on someone else’s terms is not inclusion at all.

So this space, this strange, painful silence — it becomes my sanctuary.
And in it, I remember:

My peace is non-negotiable.
My authenticity is not for sale.
And my strength doesn’t come from being accepted.
It comes from not breaking when I’m not.

Even now, with no guarantees, no community, no certainties — I still choose to walk forward.
Because I am still here.
Still standing.
Still me.

And that’s more than enough.

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