An observer…that's a nickname I gave myself, actually—and quite literally. The first sixteen years of my life, since the day I was born, I spent all my time observing the world around me. I never intentionally or actively involved myself with anyone. It wasn't fear or shyness either… it was a feeling I can't quite put into words. I just felt like I didn't belong in this world, like everyone else were foreign objects in the place I existed.
No, I shouldn't say it like that… it wasn't the people who were foreign. I was the foreign one.A guest in a place that never felt like home, a presence that could never blend in no matter how hard I tried. And the strange part was, I never questioned it. I could feel it deep in my soul that I wasn't one of them.
It seemed like the people around me understood that too. My family mostly ignored me and only spoke when necessary. I was never anyone's crush, never invited into groups. I existed mostly in the background.
But the background was the only place that ever felt natural to me. While everyone else lived their lives in color, mine felt muted… like I was watching a movie I wasn't cast in. I noticed everything—people's habits, their expressions, the way they moved, the way they connected effortlessly. I saw what most overlooked, but no one ever noticed me.
Sometimes I wondered if that was my role from the very start. Not a participant, not a main character… just a quiet presence meant to observe without ever truly touching the world. And honestly, I didn't fight it. I didn't try to force myself into circles where I clearly didn't belong.
But as I grew older, that quiet distance between me and everyone else began to shift. Not because people changed, but because I started recognizing something in myself. Maybe being an observer wasn't a flaw. Maybe it was just the way I survived those early years. Maybe it was the only way I knew how to exist in a place that never welcomed me.
Still… there were moments when I caught myself wishing I could step forward, even once, and be seen. Not as a background figure. Not as a stranger in my own life. Just as someone who belonged somewhere—even if that "somewhere" wasn't here.
This is the story of how an observer like me finally broke out of my glass.