Loneliness

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When I was a kid, I had this small red ball. I used to throw it against the wall and wait for it to come back, like it was playing with me. I would talk to it, laugh, and sometimes even tell it how my day went. In my little world, it felt like I always had someone.

Life felt simple back then.

Now things are very different.

I’m a medical graduate, currently doing my residency in pediatrics. I joined about one and a half months ago. Most of my day is spent in the hospital, surrounded by children, their families, and the constant movement of a busy ward. There’s always something to do, always someone who needs help.

On the outside, it looks like a full life.

But when I come back after long shifts, everything becomes very quiet. No close friends to talk to. No one to share how the day actually felt. No one to tell the small things to, the ones that don’t seem important but somehow matter the most.

Life has slowly become very routine. Wake up. Go to work. Come back. Sleep. Repeat.

It’s not that I’m unhappy. It’s just… lonely in a calm, silent way.

I still sometimes think about that red ball. Back then, even something so simple could feel like company. Now, even with so much around me, it feels like there’s no one really “there.”

I guess I’m just someone who would like to share thoughts, feelings, or even random moments with another person. Nothing big. Just a little connection in this very quiet routine.