Miles Apart

The Tension Between Space and Isolation

Reflections on distance, survival, and finding a baseline

Lately, I’ve been staring down a paradox that’s tricky to put into words, but it’s heavy enough to sit on my chest.

It’s this weird, conflicting anxiety: on one hand, I have this instinct to stay unpredictable, to keep my guard up, and to avoid getting too concentrated or overcrowded by people. Getting too close to too many human dynamics feels risky—like putting all your vulnerabilities on display in a world that already feels hyper-volatile. When everything outside feels like it’s going off the rails, withdrawing into my own space feels like the only logical defense mechanism.

But then the flip side hits, and it’s just as sharp.

The realization that I don't have a deep, core safety net of people who truly care about me within a 100-mile radius is terrifying. It’s that primal, late-night thought: If the wheels completely fall off right now, I am physically on my own.

So I end up suspended in this bizarre middle ground:

• Too close, and I feel suffocated or exposed.
• Too isolated, and the geographic silence feels deafening.
• Staying predictable feels like leaving a trail for trouble, but staying unpredictable takes constant energy.

Honestly, looking back at everything that’s happened in the world and in life over the last few years, it’s hard to even process how I’ve made it this far without snapping under the weight of it. When global and local chaos stack up, your brain starts hyper-analyzing your exact distance from everyone else. You push people back to buy breathing room, then panic because you pushed them too far away, and then pull back in just enough to avoid total exile.

It’s exhausting. It’s like living with one foot on the gas and one foot on the brake, constantly trying to calculate the exact safe mileage between myself and the rest of humanity.

I don't necessarily have a neat, wrapped-up resolution for it today. Sometimes you just have to name the paradox out loud to stop it from running wild in your head. I’m still figuring out how to exist in the space between total self-reliance and complete isolation—how to build a baseline of safety without building a fortress that locks me in alone.