The Struggle To Fit In

Recently, I was at a wedding, and as I observed, I felt an intense sense of not fitting in. It felt like I couldn’t relate to these people, to their feelings and emotions, to their joy. I get a similar feeling when I’m at my job, around a bunch of execs and colleagues. And even when I’m in Goa, hanging around my music friends.

I started contemplating why this might be the case, and this blog is my way of exploring that.

Each time I’m around these crowds, I feel like a third person. Sometimes, it gets to such an extent that people think I’m being rude. But in fact, it’s just me not being able to relate to any of these groups: family, work, or music. They all seem foreign to me. In those moments, I feel a sense of dread. So most of the time, I end up sitting on the sidelines, alone, enjoying on my own. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy seeing people happy. But for some reason, I can’t be involved in that happiness. My happiness lies in seeing them happy. But when it comes to enjoying something with them, I feel a disconnect. It’s that “leave me alone” feeling.

Initially, this feeling stemmed from a sense of superiority, the belief that people were mediocre. But that illusion got crushed over the years. Now it feels more like I’m the odd one out, rather than them. They are normal humans, enjoying life, while we are the abnormal ones, unable to relate to those experiences.

I think this comes from my inability to form “real” relationships. I was always behind a computer, alone in my room and in my mind. As a child, I was extremely comfortable with isolation and being alone. No one came into my space, no one asked me to be vulnerable. So I formed this unbreakable friendship with myself, to the extent that forming that same kind of bond with someone else feels unnatural. Yes, I’m very much in tune with myself, but also in deep dissonance with others.

So, each time I’m in these crowds, I feel like these people don’t know me, they won’t understand me, and they won’t reach the level I operate on to get close to me. I see people who are not conscious or aware of themselves. But as I write this, I wonder, what’s even the benefit of being conscious and aware?

I think we can boil this down to judgment. I’m a very judgmental person. So when I’m expected to do this “normal” stuff, my mind immediately self‑judges. It knows the comments that would come because I would’ve made the same ones if it were someone else. And that stops me from doing those “normal” things.

The consequence is not being able to live a normal life, not being able to relate, not being able to “fit in.” But now that I’ve grown, I’ve kind of accepted this is who I am. This might lead to isolation for most people, but since I’m already friends with isolation, it took me much longer to even recognize that there was an issue in the first place.

And I think judgment plays a huge role here, both toward others and toward myself. Over the years, I won’t say I’ve stopped judging people, but I’ve learned to adjust my response. I still judge, but I let people be who they are, because in most cases, I’m the abnormal one. I constantly remind myself of that, “you are the abnormal one in this situation.”

This has made me kinder and more empathetic toward others. Now, every time I judge someone, I acknowledge it and set it aside. This has helped me build bonds that feel more “real,” even if they’re still surface‑level. But I’ll take that, even reaching the mantle feels like a big enough win before we aim for the core rather than just being at the crust.

All that said, I still don’t think I’ve found my crowd, my people, the ones I truly relate to.