When You Begin to See Everything, You Start to Belong Nowhere

I heard that line while scrolling on TikTok, and it stopped me cold. When you begin to see everything, you start to belong nowhere. It sat with me. Not as some poetic phrase, but as a mirror I wasn’t ready to look into. Because the more I’ve started to see, really see, the more disconnected I’ve become from the world around me.

I don’t trust the script of reality anymore.

It feels broken. Or maybe it was never really intact to begin with, and I’m only now noticing the cracks. The hypocrisy. The contradictions. The cruelty. The apathy. The slow, casual way people harm each other and then keep scrolling.

It’s getting harder for me to play along. And to be honest, I don’t think I want to.

Lately, these blog posts have turned into journal entries. Raw, unfiltered, not always polished. But there’s usually something tucked in there, something for you, the reader, to leave with. I guess that’s part of my offering while I’m here. On this planet. In this chapter. In this body.

With every layer of pain I peel back, I seem to gain an unexpected gift: knowledge. Sometimes even clarity. A new vantage point to look at my life and figure out how I want to move forward, or at least survive the day.

I used to wonder if anyone actually read these posts. It wasn’t a loud thought, just something that sat in the background like static. But then I’d get messages. Someone would quote a line back to me. Thank me for something I said. And that quiet knowing, the kind that lives deep in the gut, told me to keep going.

So I did.

I don’t know how many blog posts I’ve written by now. More than one, clearly. Enough to know I wasn’t just talking to myself, even when it felt like it.

This one’s different, though. I started it a few days ago and walked away from it. That’s not like me. I usually pour it all out in one go. But I left this one sitting open, incomplete. And here I am, circling back.

Maybe that says something about the space I’m in.

Maybe I’m becoming harder to complete. Maybe the thoughts don’t come fully formed like they used to. Or maybe I just don’t have the energy to sit with them long enough anymore.

When you begin to see everything, you start to belong nowhere.

It’s like a curse. Or at least it feels like one. I used to believe we were all the same, not literally, but in potential. That if I could do something, then surely others could too. But now I realize how few people actually think in layers. How few people hear multiple conversations at once and still manage to track each thread. How few can spot a pattern before it fully forms. Or why some of us can’t watch TV without predicting every scene before it plays out.

My brain doesn’t stop. It never has. It runs 1000:1 compared to most. You’d think that means I get more done, but it’s not that simple. It’s not efficient. It’s chaotic. All the skills I have, all the tools I’ve sharpened, they only activate when something sparks me. And lately, those sparks have been few and far between.

The weight of what’s happening in my personal life has soaked the ground beneath me. It’s made it hard to light anything at all. And I feel it everywhere, my energy, my emotions, and my business. It’s wild to think I’m still holding on to that. Some days, it feels like the only thing I have. Other days, I want to release it all. Let it crash. Walk away.

This world doesn’t feel built for people who see everything. And because of that, I’ve slowly pulled away. You’ll rarely catch me outside of my creative space these days. And if you do, I’m probably not fully there.

Some might call it paranoia. Or anxiety. But maybe it’s just awareness. And maybe we can let it be that without needing to diagnose it.

This is my third time returning to this entry. That’s a first. Normally I’d toss it and move on. But something told me to finish. To see it through. And now I’m sitting here wondering why this one wouldn’t let me go.

I joke with myself sometimes, Maybe these are my final days. Then I laugh and slap the thought away. But in that same breath I ask myself, If they were, wouldn’t I be moving differently? Wouldn’t I be more urgent? The irony is I still feel like I have more to give… even when I feel completely depleted.

What does it mean when pain becomes funny?

What does it mean when you see everything but belong nowhere?

I don’t know. I don’t have the answers. I just know that I feel it. And if you do too, then maybe this was written for you.

B,