门无杂宾 / I Don’t Need to Be Social

Written in 2016 by Kisa Li

(Originally published on Douban)

Once, a friend told me,

“Here’s a piece of advice — make more friends,

any kind of friends.”

Another said,

“Don’t close yourself off.

Meet new people.

Trust them.”

I know what they meant.

In their world,

friends expand your sight,

bring opportunities,

make you whole.

They’re right, in their way.

There are people I meet,

we gather, talk about life,

drink, laugh,

rehearse our existence.

Old classmates,

co-workers,

faces that orbit mine.

You might call them true friends,

but I call them passing echoes —

voices that fill the room

without ever touching the heart.

Someone once said:

“You can tell a person

by the company they keep.”

I disagree.

Or, half agree.

Yes — your circle reveals a shade of you.

But when I’m alone,

that’s when I am most myself.

So if that’s true,

you will never truly know me.

You can’t see me through

my drinking companions.

In front of them, I play a part —

speak what can be spoken,

fit into the noise.

That’s not friendship.

That’s survival.

Two people meet after years apart,

talk about what was.

Maybe that’s all they still share.

Friendship is not emotion,

it’s perspective.

If our worlds do not align,

how can we walk together?

Life is brief.

Life is long.

Choosing who walks beside you —

that’s cultivation.

Yet people cling to others for benefit,

for face,

for comfort.

They build circles

to make their loneliness invisible.

When they tell me again,

“You need friends,”

I smile.

“I don’t.”

“I have friends,” I said,

“those who share a vision,

who dream in the same language.

If I haven’t met them yet, I’ll wait.

Solitude is not suffering.”

“They help me grow —

not in advantage,

but in spirit.”

They laughed.

“You can’t live in this world

without social skills.”

Maybe they’re right.

We keep the rituals

of those before us,

call it survival,

call it human.

But I still said,

“I don’t need to.”

I don’t need to waste time

on conversations that hollow me out.

I don’t need to pretend interest

in what I don’t care for.

I don’t need to share my WeChat,

to let strangers peer into my life.

I don’t need to show my songs

to those who cannot hear.

What I need

are the ones who call at 3 a.m.

to talk about xin xue —

the unity of knowing and doing.

The ones who live with integrity,

who speak the same silence.

That girl from Kuwait

who talked about music

until dawn.

I need conversation of the soul,

friends as rare

as books and music.

Not the empty dance

of social noise.

You see,

what a beautiful life it would be —

if we stopped wasting it

on people

who never listen.