Before we begin, nobody has diagnosed me with schizoid PD. I was looking to fit in somewhere over my odd way of being, and I finally settled here.

Regarding my question, I always feel mentally deficient when I compare myself with my childhood friends. My sister is seven years younger than me, yet she has more mental clarity and the courage to make life decisions. I don’t think I’m confused—I actually have good mental clarity about what is going on—but regarding certain aspects of life, I just don’t have the skill set. Especially in interpersonal settings. I can’t even say "hi" to someone I already know.

Let me tell you about an incident. One day, I went to a nearby town that is a little farther from my home than the one I usually go to. I was in a supermarket when an old schoolmate showed up. I knew who she was, but I just ignored her. She seemed extremely happy to see a schoolmate after ten or twenty years. When I was at the cash counter, she came right in front of me and looked at me face-to-face, but I don’t know why I pretended not to know her. I knew exactly who she was, but I couldn't say hello because doing so takes such a heavy toll on me. I think that's how I hurt someone who was genuinely happy to see me. Even after leaving the shop, when she showed up on her scooter, I ignored her. That was about a year ago, and it still hurts me too. I don’t know why I ignored her.

This is just one incident. In most areas of my life, I don’t know how to behave. Even when I consider getting a job, I worry that people will eventually figure out who I really am. I mean, they will eventually notice my odd way of being, and I feel terrified of being exposed like that. I don’t want that, so I just avoid getting a job altogether.

However, despite what the definition of schizoid PD says, I’m not someone who completely doesn't care about having good relationships with people. I do enjoy them, but deep down, I feel like people will move away eventually, so why bother in the first place? I can go years and years without having any connection with anyone outside. For the last couple of years (since I quit my last job), I haven't actually gone out to socialize at all. No wedding parties, no bars, no restaurants... nothing. If I want something, I just get takeaway and bring it home.

When I compare myself to my childhood friends, I see that they have plans, they have skills, and they are building their lives. Instead, I spend years and years criticizing everyone, including myself. For them, interpersonal skills seem to come naturally. For me, even the smallest interaction exacts a massive mental toll.

Ever since I can remember, one thing has probably been true about me: I was a weirdo.

From childhood to now, at 37, I’ve never had a marriage, a job that lasted, children, close friends, or a relationship. The only person I’m really in contact with now is my mother, and even that isn’t a deep connection. She mostly takes care of me.

So, I’m pretty much alone with my weirdness.

But strangely, it has set me free. Let me explain why.

For most of my life, I tried to project something different from who I really was. I wanted the world to believe I was a good, normal person, even when deep down I knew something was different about me.

I remember that after high school, I bought a book about improving your personality. Even at that age, I knew something wasn’t quite right with me. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but deep down, I knew. I also hid it from my parents, and they believed I was a good kid.

When I decided to pursue a degree, part of me thought that maybe, after graduation, people wouldn’t think I was crazy anymore.

"He graduated. How can a graduate be crazy?"

So I did it. I graduated with good marks.

Around the same time, my anxiety became increasingly difficult to control. I worried about everything.

Then I moved to a foreign country. New place, new people, a completely different way of life.

I fell apart.

The things I had been hiding became much more apparent. Exactly what I had feared.

I found myself lying awake at 3 AM, replaying events from the past. I couldn’t switch my brain off. It just kept talking, while I sat there listening.

Two years of working went by, and eventually I quit. I came home and locked myself away.

The world felt frightening to me. Meanwhile, people my age were getting married and building lives with their partners.

And I was silent, watching from the outside, as if everyone else was running some strange race that I had never learned how to enter.

That was also when I started taking the mask off.

"I’m a weirdo."

Maybe I won’t have the kind of life other people have. Maybe nothing I do will completely change my fate.

So I decided to accept it.

Accept myself.

And stop pretending.

I started trying to be myself instead of constantly trying to convince other people that I was normal.

After 2.5 years of psychiatric medication and years of unemployment, sitting around in torn T-shirts and doing very little with my life, I surprisingly started to feel proud of myself.

I felt good about myself.

I started reading about the origin of humans and thinking about our existence and purpose in a different way. And somehow, I found comfort in it.

I came to believe that there is no predetermined point we have to reach before we die.

There is no finish line we are required to cross.

The only thing that is real is that you are here, experiencing this moment.

You don't have to explain your life to everyone. You don't have to convince people that your way of living is valid.

If you're weird, maybe you're just weird.

If your life doesn't look like everyone else's, maybe that's okay too.

Just be who you are.

And when death eventually comes, let it come.

To me, death is simply a return to the same state we were in before we were born.

Nothingness.

And strangely, I find that thought comforting.

I have loved so many people in my life, but I’ve never received that love in return except from my mom. I’m 36 years old now, and I feel like I’ve never truly lived. I constantly worry that I will die without ever experiencing simple human affection. Inside, I feel like I am dying. No, worse I feel like a dead man walking.

Today, a painful realization hit me: I have never truly been loved by a partner. It feels like there isn't a single woman in this entire world who cares about my existence. It makes me feel pathetic, like I’m not even human, but an alien completely disconnected from everyone else.

All I want is to hold someone in my arms and hear them say, "I need you," "I worry about you," or "You don't have to do this alone." But I get nothing. I’ve spent most of my life seeking answers from God and searching for love, and now that half my life is gone, I've received nothing but silence. The emptiness inside me is so heavy right now that I can barely move.

I just want to hold someone's hand. I want to hold someone in my arms, to kiss, to love, and to actually live. Instead, there is nothing. The world feels incredibly cruel.

I don't understand why people find me so unlovable. I find myself desperately looking for a connection in the eyes of every woman I pass, but no one looks back. Even when I try to dress well and present myself nicely, I get no attention. It’s as if I don’t exist to anyone but my mother.

I feel like I am dying inside. I don't know why this is my reality.