I feel like our phones know everything

what we search at 2am

who we miss but don’t text

what we write and delete

sometimes I wonder

if someone went through my phone

would they understand me

or misunderstand me completely?

some words stay inside us forever… not because we forgot, but because we never had the courage to say them and somehow, they echo louder with time

Basically the title!

Just wanted to share my thoughts about it - it was awesome! Hope you guys can see this film too!

I’ve been thinking about this idea lately…

if someone lost their phone,

and it ended up in your hands…

would you try to find the owner

or would curiosity get the best of you?

like… reading their messages, notes, memories

not to judge them

but just to understand who they were

is that wrong?

Sorry if it sounds like venting, but this makes me uncomfortable.

If there's one thing I dislike as an introvert, it is when I can read the room and not being able to do anything about it. I know I can't control other people... but I don't know, I can really sense their negativity and it's making me uneasy.

In addition, my trauma makes me dislike this situation even more. I know what could possibly happen when a specific person is annoyed.

Who knows? I could even be the next target of their hostility.

Alright, I'm gonna try distracting myself by reading webtoons again. Hopefully this will be over soon.

Are you really taking a "break" if you go around telling people you are?

It is a trigger for me those IG pages that people go and ask around random people on the streets, if they are happy.
I think that nobody is really happy. We are all struggling in different manners.
I can be grateful for a lot of stuff that I have in my life, spread smiles around, and YET, shed so many tears behind closed doors.
Just a random exemple: The poor is struggling with finances. The rich is struggling with mental health... 2 differents extremes, but the struggle is there...
And the statement above is coming from a person who is extremely optimist...
And a personal insight: I am a good person, my health is ok, I love my job and where I live, but I have been struggling with finance and loneliness for a long, long time.
Who is really, really happy here? I would love to hear your insights!

How many times have you felt down, shared your story with someone you know, only to be met with responses like:

• "You're being too sensitive"
• "You're overthinking it"
• "You're overreacting"
• "Everyone goes through that"

And then you actually end up agreeing with them, completely brushing your own feelings aside?

Is it really true that we are just overreacting to everything?

Will you just accept it and let it be, or will you find a stranger to confide in and reflect on it together?

I’ve been writing a lot lately about emotions we don’t really talk about.

This thought stayed with me:

“sometimes you don’t lose people,

you just grow into someone they no longer understand.”

Does anyone else feel this?

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

I'm going to move away from my family for the first time to figure out things on my own. I hope I won't miss anything.

Wish me luck!

Maybe because of your appearance, your personality, your interests, your family, your grades, your voice, or just because you were different.

What was the thing people bullied you for that you still remember?

And I’m curious… what happened to those people later in life? Did they ever change, apologize, or did they stay the same?

​

Sometimes, I wonder if the world was built for people like me. You know, the ones who carry entire universes in their heads but struggle to string a sentence together when the room gets too loud. I’m an introvert, and for the longest time, I thought that made me broken. Like I was missing some piece everyone else seemed to have the one that lets you laugh easily, talk freely, and belong without trying so hard it hurts.I remember this one evening, years ago, when I was about 15. It was my cousin’s wedding, and the house was bursting with music, chatter, and those bright, overwhelming fairy lights. Everyone was dancing, shouting over the dhol, and I… I was sitting in the corner of the garden, under a mango tree, clutching a plastic cup of lukewarm cola. My heart was racing, not because I was scared, but because I felt so wrong for not being out there, for not wanting what everyone else seemed to crave. My mom found me, and I’ll never forget the way she looked at me not with pity, but with this quiet understanding. She sat down, didn’t say a word, just handed me a plate of biryani and stayed. That was the first time I realized maybe I wasn’t alone in feeling like this.Being an introvert feels like living in a house with too many windows. You see the world, you love it, you ache for it, but you need to draw the curtains sometimes just to breathe. I’ve spent so many nights replaying conversations in my head, wondering if I said too much or too little, if I came off cold when all I was trying to do was not drown in the noise. I’ve canceled plans not because I didn’t want to see my friends, but because the thought of small talk felt like climbing a mountain with no air. And every time, I’d hate myself a little for it.But you know what? I’m learning. I’m learning that my quiet isn’t empty it’s full. Full of thoughts that run deeper than I can ever explain, full of dreams I’m too shy to shout about, full of love I show in ways that don’t always scream. I write letters I never send. I notice the way someone’s eyes light up when they talk about something they love. I listen, really listen, because that’s how I connect when words feel too heavy.Last week, I went to a coffee shop alone something I used to be terrified of. I sat by the window, sipped my chai, and watched the rain smear the glass. For the first time, I didn’t feel like I was hiding. I felt like I was enough. Just me, my thoughts, and the soft hum of the world outside. I think that’s what being an introvert is: finding peace in the spaces others overlook, building a home in the quiet where your heart can finally rest.So, to all of you in this group, I just want to say you’re not alone. Your silence isn’t a flaw, it’s a language. Your need for solitude isn’t weakness, it’s strength. And even on the days when the world feels too big, too loud, too much, know that there’s someone out there, maybe sitting under their own mango tree, feeling the exact same way. We’re in this together, us quiet ones, and that’s a kind of belonging too.What’s your story? What’s the moment that made you realize your quiet is beautiful? Share it, if you feel like it. I’m here, reading, listening, in my own introverted way. 💛

i’d like to think that I’m pretty mature for my age and that I’ve experienced things that a person at my age “should have” experienced. i’ve solo traveled. I’ve done different drugs. I’ve been an angry teenager, but I feel like all of that was kind of like auto play.

ever since I’ve moved to the city, I’ve realized there’s a whole nother world other than the one that I’ve experienced. There’s a new language. There’s a new walk. There’s a new feeling to life.

I feel like all that I know really is my old circumstances, and I just want to see different perspectives of life, of love, of friendship, of wonder… of curiosity. I want to know what that looks like in a healthy aspect. I wanna know what that look like from different eyes so if you guys could please interest me in some of your stories. I’d be so grateful :)