What to do when your ‘friends’ stop talking about ideas — and start talking about people?
What to do when brunch feels like a press conference?
When the conversations loop like a broken playlist.
When the names of people not in the room become the main event?
Here’s the short answer: you leave.
Here’s the longer one: you evolve.

Let’s start here: most people aren’t mean.
They’re just bored.
Boredom is a dangerous thing —
it shapeshifts into gossip, projection, superiority.
It disguises itself as concern.
“I’m just saying this because I care.”
Sure.

But here’s the truth: people who are busy building things, don’t destroy other people.
People who are building lives, brands, ideas, rhythms, don’t have time to discuss someone else’s outfit, choices, or love life for hours on end.

And yet… we all fall into the trap.

Enter: Erasmus.

Ah, the group chat that became real life.
You land in a new country, open-hearted, open-eyed —
and within three weeks,
everyone’s dating the same three people,
wearing the same three outfits,
and talking about the same three dramas on rotation.

You came for adventure.
But ended up in a loop of who's hooking up with who,
who didn’t say hi at the bar,
and which girl “changed since she got here.”

Sound familiar?

I did Erasmus in Switzerland. And Spain.
The patterns were identical.
Because the setting changes, but human nature is still the same.
Unless you change.

So what now?

Start by listening to yourself.
Do you feel good after the dinner table talk?
Or just... exhausted?

You don’t have to make a scene.
You don’t need to post a Notes app apology for outgrowing people.
Just start spending your time elsewhere.

Go learn something.
Read poetry — not to quote it, but to feel it.
Take a walk — and leave your phone.
Try making music, even if it sucks.
Start something: a playlist, a Tumblr, a plan.
Re-watch old movies and pay attention to the background extras.
Find beauty in the corners.

People who are fascinated by life don’t need to dissect others.
They create.
They observe.
They write.
They film.
They build.

Five micro-steps to be good by yourself:

1. Leave the room without guilt.
   Not all exits need explanations.
2. Romanticize your own boredom.
   Boredom is fertile ground. Use it. Don't outsource it.
3. Switch passive consumption for active creation.
   Scroll less. Doodle more. Write. Even one line.
4. Make time for small rituals.
   Tea before phone. Walk before Wi-Fi.
5. Curate your own context.
   People say "you are who you surround yourself with."
   But maybe you're who you listen to. Choose wisely.

So what does it actually mean to be good by yourself?

It means you don’t need noise to feel seen.
It means your validation isn’t coming from the group thread.
It means you’re not scared of silence — you sculpt with it.
It means you’re the main character,
and your plot twist isn’t based on their opinions.

You can love people and still outgrow their distractions.
You can miss them and still walk away.
You can be kind — and still be alone.
Not lonely. Just… at peace.

And if you’re lucky,
you’ll find yourself talking to someone about books, ideas, design, problems worth solving,
and suddenly you’ll realize —

You’re not alone anymore.

You’re just finally in the right room.