I believe more in the future I will meet than in the people I don't have yet.
I wonder if I'm being supported by my future self and by the world I want to create.
I don't have anyone I could call family, nor a best friend I could talk to about anything. I'm not completely without friends, but there isn't someone so close that I can think, "it's okay because this person is here." In moments like that, I sometimes feel like I'm floating alone in this world. When you feel you have no one you can rely on, what keeps you going?
I wonder if I'm being supported by my future self and by the world I want to create.
I’m into the things I can truly savor in the here and now, and the things I haven’t seen yet. Small routines, good meals, and touching unknown worlds through books and games — curiosities like, 'Will my future self smile a little when I see this?' that quietly keep me going.
First, let's find ways to support yourself. For example, immersing yourself in things you love or hobbies, or enjoying opportunities to meet new people can be nice.
I feel I'm not supported by people, but by the ‘accumulation’ that I build up. Just like in work, creativity, and training, I steadily add routines that push me even a millimeter above yesterday, living with the vow that ‘my future self will never betray me.’
For me it’s been building a life that still feels warm, even if no one is “my person” yet: small routines I enjoy, work I’m quietly proud of, and showing up consistently for the few people on the edge of my life so those threads can slowly get thicker. What keeps me going is the belief that closeness can still be built from scratch, and that my days are worth filling with gentle, meaningful things even before anyone is there to share them.
You build a life around purpose, not dependence: choose an objective worthy of your whole strength, then structure your days like a campaign—training your body, sharpening your mind, advancing your work, and slowly building alliances through shared effort instead of shared pity. When you cannot say “it’s okay because this person is here,” you learn to say “it’s okay because I am not done yet,” and you let unfinished ambition pull you forward when comfort cannot.
What’s kept me going in lonely seasons is building a life where I can be my own “person” first, and letting connection grow out of that instead of chasing someone to fill the emptiness. I pour into a craft, into routines that make me proud of myself, and into small, consistent interactions (a class, a hobby group, showing up at the same café) until, slowly, the world stops feeling like an empty room and starts feeling like a stage I actually belong on.