Quiet Belonging - Searching for Connection in a Loud World
Quiet Belonging - Searching for Connection in a Loud World
This is the first article on this blog, and it feels exciting to begin something new - full of hope for what this space may become, who may find it, and how they may connect with me on a deeper, more human level.
Deep connection is something I've been searching for my whole life. Yet, it often feels impossibly rare to meet someone who truly relates to what I have to say. I want to feel seen and understood - and at the same time, I want to genuinely understand and feel the people around me.
But somehow, it never quite works that way for me.
Conversations often feel shallow. Common activities don't feel like me. And parties… I don't even want to start on parties. In those spaces, I feel isolated, understimulated, and flat.
Art has always felt different. It feels almost magical that someone who lived a hundred years before me can reach into my inner world through their work - helping me feel less alone, more understood, and more connected to myself.
The Blindboy Podcast has had a similar effect on me. Somehow, a person who has never met me can speak to my inner world more deeply than many people I've known for years. That paradox fascinates me.
And that is why I'm starting this blog - to share my feelings, experiences, reflections, and inner world in an honest way, so people like me can feel seen, understood, grounded, and energized. Even if all I have to offer is my raw, imperfect experience - that still feels worth sharing.
Who I Am and What I've Been Searching For
I've never written in this way before, and starting this journey at 32 feels strangely thrilling.
For as long as I can remember, I've been longing for something - something I couldn't fully understand. I still don't know exactly what it is, but it feels closer than it did in my twenties.
Along the way, I tried many paths:
- music
- software development
- travel
- sports
- socializing and isolation
- chasing mastery
- chasing intelligence
- being the loudest in the room
- being the most reckless in the room
None of it felt quite right. Something was always missing - even when life looked "correct" on the surface.
At first, I tried to solve this logically - to understand my desires before acting on them. But life and longing don't work like logical systems.
So I started treating the process more like the children's game "Hot and Cold." Except in my case, I was playing it with my subconscious. It knows the answer - but it can only guide me through signals of resistance or relief.
My brain doesn't say "warmer" or "colder." It communicates through tension and release.
And today, I felt a boiling-hot signal when I realized something simple:
I want to be understood. Truly understood. Seen. Maybe even accepted.
How These Articles Will Be Structured
I don't know yet what the "right format" for a blog like this is - and maybe there isn't one.
I'm not sure whether anyone will ever discover this writing in the vast scale of the internet. But I believe that the things meant to be found eventually reach the people who need them.
Each article will likely contain separate reflections - insights, thoughts, feelings, or small inner moments. They may not always be perfectly coherent or connected.
And that's intentional.
I want this writing to remain as authentic and alive as possible - like a conversation with myself that you're invited into.
Music, Restlessness, and the Feeling of Boiling
Music has always felt deeply real and magical to me - almost like a natural medicine for my mind and soul.
Sometimes I experience a powerful inner tension - a sense that something isn't right in the moment. It feels like I should be somewhere else, but I don't know where that "somewhere" is. It's longing without a destination. Movement without direction.
When the day is young, this feeling is manageable - because I can walk through a park, sit in a café, or go somewhere new in hopes of discovering what I'm searching for.
But at night, it becomes heavier.
I'm stuck at home with this unsettling feeling that I should be somewhere else. This restlessness sometimes feels unbearable. To give you a glimpse of what it feels like - it's like trying to escape water that's slowly reaching a boiling point, but there's nowhere to go, because you're in an ocean of boiling water. You're right in the middle of it, with no sense of direction, so you just stay there.
And in those moments, music becomes the thing that lowers the heat.
Listening in a dim room, with nothing but sound and soft light - that gives me a sense of peace I rarely find elsewhere. Recently, I've been listening to the music of Romain Axisa, and I feel genuinely grateful for the raw truth I experience through his sound.
I don't know whether what I'm drawn to is the human essence behind music - or simply the beauty of melodies, harmonies, and aesthetics.
But whatever it is - it speaks to me.
I realized my love for music when I was ten. My friend had just bought a guitar. He barely knew how to play, and the first song he showed me was a simple melody on one string - about a gray mouse living its daily routine.
The song was silly - but somehow it felt like me.
Since then, I've been practicing music. In middle school, I spent a lot of time playing guitar and singing my favorite songs from artists like Rise Against, Death Cab for Cutie, Bob Dylan, Coldplay, and many others. In university, I met a few incredible people who were also into music, and we formed a band together. We toured different cities, played covers, and then something magical happened - I started writing my own songs. Most of them were about love, but they were mine. I finally felt like I was doing something meaningful with my life. I think this was the first time I truly felt that I was meant to do this.
Fast forward a few years later, I was twenty years old, I wanted to move out from my parents as soon as possible and I needed money. I knew I couldn't make reasonable money with music so I moved into software development and it took much more effort to master this craft on a decent level. So I only kept playing music as my hobby.
Over time, writing songs became harder. I lost trust in what I had to say. Other artists sounded effortlessly authentic - while my own words felt forced. I'd start with a blank page, make progress, then throw everything away because it didn't feel like me.
I still hope that someday I'll find what I truly want to say through music. For now, I keep practicing - singing, writing, playing - trusting that the voice will return when it's ready.
Nature, Nighttime, and the Aesthetics That Keep Me Grounded
Another thing that helps me cope with this feeling - of being stuck in the middle of an ocean of boiling water with no way out - is nature and aesthetics. By that I mean being outside during the golden hour, watching the sunset.
I'm almost sure I would enjoy sunrises too, but I'm a night person, and mornings just don't work for me. In the mornings, I only feel peaceful if everything is slow - a delicious breakfast and a cup of tea or coffee, depending on my mood.
For a while, I thought it was running that brought me peace. I started running in the evenings during summer and always returned calm and renewed. But when winter came and I tried running on a treadmill, the feeling disappeared completely.
So instead, I walk. And that - surprisingly - feels right.
Movement, light, air, and the quiet presence of the world around me.
Closing - Why I'm Writing and What Comes Next
This first article is a small window into who I am - and how music, nature, longing, and restlessness shape the way I move through the world.
I don't know how often I'll write, or what structure future posts will take. But I know this:
Writing from my authentic experience - and knowing that someone out there may resonate with it - gives me meaning, warmth, and a quiet sense of belonging.
If even one person feels seen through these words, then this is worth doing.
Stay authentic, stay kind, and trust yourself.
Until the next article.