“Belonging isn’t always loud — sometimes it’s a seat you don’t get to take.”

-Quill

Has anyone ever felt like the odd one out? Maybe you’re surrounded by friends or family and in the middle of everything you thought, I don’t fit in. I’ll say this honestly — I feel that way a lot.

If you ask me to describe my family, I’d pause. They’d do they love each other, but they can be quietly selfish. I know it sounds harsh. I wasn’t mistreated, but often I felt like a burden: small, awkward, and out of place.

A few weeks ago, the family got together, same house, the same chairs. Someone told a story I didn’t know, while the room filled with laughter. My aunt slapped her leg, and cousin held his stomach. All I could do was sit there shrinking into myself, trying to become one with my chair.

The room felt a tad too close, even the food was muted, like a radio dialed down. I smiled anyways, a reflex of someone trying to belong.

What I’d like to do is share a few moments of my life where un-belonging had a grip on me.

Stay with me — by the end you might feel less alone, or at least less stuck.

Pluto at Home

A little background to understand the entire point. Growing up it was just my mother and I in a household. My mom worked hard long hours, sometimes I wouldn’t see her till late in the evening. So most of the time was spent my aunt and cousins.

I loved hanging around them. The living room was always filled with kids wrestling, playing video games and hunting for snacks. It was chaotic, but it filled the silence that otherwise would’ve hung heavy at home. I didn’t really belong in the middle of it, but at least I wasn’t alone.

Well if you exclude the times we teased each other mercilessly, hiding toys, tattling about small things. Then we’d collapse into giggles ten minutes later. The back-and- forth was the closes thing I had to a sibling rivalry, and in a weird way, brought comfort. It kept the loneliness away when mom had to work.

Even with the crowd, I never shook that feeling of orbiting in their world rather than living in it.

I wasn’t disliked per say. It wasn’t even that I didn’t belong, I just belonged differently.

I was Pluto in the Family Solar System, always there, included but never could assimilate completely.

I use to think maybe if i tried harder, or became smaller and more obedient – I’d feel more at home in that galaxy. The truth?  No amount of effort ever shifted my orbit. And maybe that’s okay.

Maybe, Pluto has its own kind of peace. Steady, always circling, always watching, even to this day I still consider myself Pluto. 

“I wasn’t at the center, but at least I was still part of the orbit”

– QUILL

Still In Orbit

There were plenty of times I thought it was just my family with that feeling of not belonging. I thought it was just some weird fluke. Something that would vanish once I got older and started surrounding myself with people who “got” me.

Spoiler. It didn’t

In middle school, it reinforced my theory. That you can feel lonely without being alone. Sitting in a crowded area surrounded by laughter didn’t protect me from feeling like I still didn’t match up to everyone else.

I tried to mold my shape, tone and the way I acted. Mimicked the styles around me, from their clothes, body language, and tone. I took notes, quietly. Like a cat watching slowly creeping up on another.

And for a while, it worked.

“I learned to laugh in all the right places—but I never stopped orbiting.”

But then the effort to belong, manufactured or real, was exhausting. Even when I “fit in”, something inside me still felt detached. Just watching. Orbiting. Alone.

Being online helped. Behind the safety of the screen, you could mold and mend your voice. Choose the persona. Easily attach yourself to another world to float through and pretend this is you.

Still, I knew the reality. It wasn’t real. Not completely.

The un-belonging never left, it just took a different shape. Shifted from family to friend. Home to world. A different place, same feeling appeared. I only hoped the feeling would wear off like a bad nights sleep.

I’m still tired. I carry it with me, hidden still ever-present. Like Pluto, still part of the system technically but no longer classified as major.

Only hoping someone might look just far enough to see me.

Orbit Break

“You do not need to be accepted by others. You need to accept yourself.”– Thich Nhat Hanh

At some point I stopped. Stopped chasing the center, stopped complying, and stopped trying to be something I’m not. For most of my life, I thought the only way to get rid of feeling like the black sheep was to jump through hoops and try to fit molds and personas that I could never fit..

But somewhere down the line, I paused and started to realize maybe I don’t actually have to fit in. Perhaps I could coexist with someone else’s world while living independently.

It was as if I was slapped across the face; the realization slowly crept in. It was as if realization was prowling my mind like a cat on the hunt.

The moments I truly felt like myself slowly became clear. They weren’t performances or awkwardly placed masks, it was the times I chose to be silent, or chose to be bold.

It wasn’t a grand revelation, but a gentle beckoning, to turn away from the orbit of other people’s expectations and follow my own.

It was the quiet, unspoken moments that I found a small ounce of peace, like my cat waiting for me to open the front door on a sunny day.

It’s not an obligation to fill every inch of space, every conversation or every role. I don’t have to be loud, seen, or perfect to be loved. It was slowly starting to become clear to me that I had my own value.

Not through the lens of others but through the quiet certainty of what I felt and learned. I wasn’t always comfortable in my newfound peace, and it wasn’t always easy or straightforward. But it was real. 

“The greatest belonging comes from simply being who you are.”

That’s when I realized, maybe being focused on fitting in, proving I belonged in a certain place, was actually a black hole. I forgot that the greatest belonging a person can have comes from simply being who you are.

Approval isn’t needed. Just existing as I am is all I ever needed to do

A New System

“Freedom isn’t the absence of gravity, it’s learning to set your own orbit.”

At first, it felt like gravity was gone, somehow I felt even more isolated and not connected. But, after spending time in the unknown, I began to see it for what it actually was– possibility.

It was a new galaxy slowly taking shape. From stars, to planets, and even tiny asteroids flying around. It was all my choice, there’s no main sun I have to chase, no restraints attached to myself.

The pull came from me and my own choices. My own rituals that anchor me and the quiet joys that brought me warmth and values that held me steady. 

Is it perfect? No absolutely not, someday everything feels like a black hole pulling me in as I struggle to hold strong.

But it’s mine.

And you know, I’ve realized in recent years, maybe it’s less about a strict orbit and more like a space cat. Just floating, stretching, and curling in unexpected places, simply reminding me that comfort doesn’t have to follow rigid rules. 

Charting my Own Orbit

For so long, I thought belonging meant finding the right orbit, the right seat, and the right way to fold myself into someone else’s world.

But by ability to grow I’ve found this; Belonging isn’t always about being the center. Sometimes it’s finding the quiet confidence to hold your own space, especially when you’re on the edges. 

If you’ve ever felt like Pluto, circling but never quiet at peace or like a space cat drifting awkwardly in someone else’s galaxy, I want you to understand something. 

You’re not alone.

The center isn’t the only place to belong. You have a quiet strength to carve out a place for yourself. A place that is steady, even if it looks completely different than what others told you it should be. 

Maybe our truest belonging comes not from someone else. But from choosing your own. For knowing that even the most distant stars shine, and the smallest planets matter.

And know, that’s enough.

“Sometimes the quietest orbit holds the brightest truth.”