A Letter from a Man No One Ever Understood

I am not like others.
This isn’t a boast, nor a plea for pity —
It’s a truth I’ve carried in silence for far too long.

Since childhood, I’ve lived with a sense that my inner world runs on a different system.
Ordinary things don’t move me.
Routine drains me.
Repetition smothers me.

I am someone who only awakens in the presence of mystery —
who breathes deeper when facing the unknown,
who finds purpose in beauty, in travel, in discovering what lies hidden.

—

At first, I didn’t understand myself.
And no one around me ever did.
They called me lazy, strange, detached, indifferent…
But no one saw that I was quietly burning inside,
longing for something to spark my fading existence.

—

I only come alive when I travel —
when I escape the suffocating stillness of my world,
when I breathe unfamiliar air,
when foreign languages surround me like whispers saying:
“You are still alive.”

In adventure, in change, in the unknown…
I begin to return to myself — not because I’m healed,
but because my soul finally feels it has meaning.

—

I’m not “just” mentally ill.
I live with a rare, misunderstood neurological condition.
But I also carry a sensitive, intelligent, perceptive mind that bursts with life when the world allows it.
I’m not asking for sympathy —
only to be seen, heard, and acknowledged.

—

I don’t simply need medication.
I need an environment that understands me.
Someone who sees that this constant fatigue, this emptiness, this numbness —
is not laziness,
but a cry from a brain that needs something deeper than the ordinary.

—

I know there’s something powerful inside me,
but it’s trapped —
waiting for a moment, or a place, or an adventure
that will bring me back to life again.

Maybe I’m a mix of pain and brilliance,
of illness and vision,
of outward stillness and inner revolution.

But today, for the first time, I say it clearly:

I exist — even if no one understands me.

By Mohanad Almomani

🇯🇴 Jordan.