Children of Gambit

Monday Again

Monday again. Monday always comes too soon.

I never liked the start of the week—too noisy, too rushed, too predictable in its unpleasantness. The thought of dragging myself through early classes while the world around me buzzes with energy I don't share has never appealed to me. Some people find motivation in it, but I just see it as another cycle repeating itself, as if the days are locked in an endless loop.

You might be wondering if I have friends—someone to break the monotony, to make Mondays less dreadful, to pull me into the world I so often avoid. The answer is simple: I don't. Not because I can't, but because I choose not to. And before you misunderstand—I don't hate people. I just don't see the appeal in being around them all the time.

It's strange, isn't it? How some people thrive in social interaction, how they move from one conversation to another as if it's the most natural thing in the world. I've tried it before, back when I was younger. I thought, maybe if I spoke more, if I let myself be noticed, I'd feel like I belonged somewhere. But it never felt right.

I learned something about myself back then—I prefer distance. Solitude isn't just a preference; it's a necessity. Some people need an escape from loneliness, but I need an escape to loneliness. A place where I don't have to deal with forced conversations, unwritten social rules, or the unpredictability of people.

Because that's the real problem—people are complex.

They have motives, ambitions, hidden layers of thought that can contradict everything they claim to stand for. They say one thing and mean another. They lie, sometimes without realizing it. They chase after things that might destroy them. And yet, they call it life.

I've come to accept that I might finish my high school years in solitude. It doesn't bother me as much as it should. People expect teenagers to crave friendships, to seek approval, to build lifelong connections. I suppose that's normal. But what if I'm not? What if I've simply seen enough to know that forcing something unnatural will only end in disappointment?

Still, if I'm being honest—I do want to connect with people. It's just… difficult. I overthink things, I hesitate when I shouldn't, I stop myself from saying what I actually want to say. I withdraw before I even give others the chance to understand me.

Maybe I'm afraid.

Afraid that if I get too close, I'll come to rely on someone. That I'll trust them, only to realize I was wrong about them all along. Maybe that's why I suppress my curiosity, why I act uninterested even when something truly fascinates me. If I ask too many questions, I might care too much. And caring too much is dangerous.

I wouldn't recommend my way of living to anyone. It's not as easy as it seems. But it's what makes sense to me.

Maybe, one day, I'll figure it out. Maybe, one day, I won't see people as unpredictable puzzles but as something worth figuring out.

But for now? It's Monday again. And I have a long week ahead of me.