DIVERGENT CORNER

I live by very simple principles. Those closest to me me know one of these to be how I won’t stop talking about this ‘unwritten social contract’. To me, we all have an obligation in every human relationship. Not contractual one, but I genuinely believe that if our paths cross, even for a moment, we owe each a little relief. A little kindness. A little improvement to the day that person is having. Be it family, friends, neighbours, a stranger sitting next to me on a train or bus, a colleague at work.

To me, everyone is part of this unwritten agreement. That we owe it to each other, given the opportunity to make someone else’s life a little easier, or a little better. Sometimes it is as small as listening carefully when someone speaks, other times, offering a piece of advice that saves someone hours of struggle. To me class, is stepping in quietly to remove an obstacle that another person doesn’t even realize is there. In my mind, this has always been the natural way humans should exist together. A series of small bridges we build for each other as we move through life, especially for those of us who came from the most disadvantaged side of life.

For a longest time, I assumed everyone understood this rule, and when I realized they didn’t, it used to frustrate me deeply. I would watch people ignore opportunities to help. I would see moments where someone could make another person’s burden lighter and simply… didn’t. Not out of cruelty necessarily, but out of indifference, distraction, or perhaps never having considered the possibility at all. It baffled me. Most times, I would flair up in rage and irritation inside me .

Time, however, has softened that frustration. I have come to accept that not everyone walks through the world with the same internal compass. Some people move through life focused only on survival. Others are consumed by their own struggles. Some simply never learned to see those small openings where kindness could live. I still follow my rule. If anything, it has become even more central to who I am. I simply cannot ignore those moments, the small chances to reduce stress in someone’s life, to add a little ease to their day.

Perhaps that is the quiet lesson hidden inside this philosophy. The rule may be unwritten, but that does not mean it is universally understood. So I carry it myself. Like a personal code. A quiet promise to the world that if our paths ever crossed, even briefly, I won’t ignore the opportunity to leave things just a little better than I found them.

This is a fire in me that I cannot seem to turn off even if I tried. I am always thinking about how things can be better how a system can improve, how a person can unlock their potential, how life can become easier or more meaningful for someone. It is not something I consciously decided to become; it is simply how my mind works. Every situation looks like possibility. Every problem looks like a an interesting puzzle to solve, something that could evolve into strength.

For most of my life I did not fully understand this part of myself. I simply assumed everyone else thought this way too. I assumed everyone was constantly evaluating themselves, adjusting, refining, trying to become a slightly better version of who they were yesterday. But the moment that shifted everything for me was when I realized I am neurodivergent.

My self-awareness grew rapidly. I paid closer attention to my patterns, questioned my habits, learnt tremendously about philosophy, behavior, and human development. My internal world suddenly had a compass, with it, came a movement. I started evolving faster than I ever had before.

Growth has a strange side effect that nobody talks about. Speed, When you begin to grow too quickly, you make it harder for people you cherish to keep up. Not because they became bad people, but because the pace changed. What used to be a shared rhythm suddenly feels different. Conversations change, Priorities change. Even the way you see problems changes.

I noticed something painful. The people I cared for the most either began to distance themselves, others simply wanted me to abandon that part of me because the old me served their purpose better, so I had to distance myself from them. It’s not open conflict. Its not anger, just something quieter. A gradual stepping back. I sensed that my passion made them uncomfortable. My constant thinking about growth, improvement, and potential could feel like pressure to someone who simply wanted to exist without analyzing everything.

Maybe they felt judged even when I never to judge them. Maybe they felt like they could disappoint me. Maybe my intensity made them feel inadequate. And that leaves me with a difficult question. Should I slow down? Should I dim this fire so others can feel more comfortable around me? Or is this simply who I am becoming? Part of me worries that if I keep evolving like this, I will end up walking alone.

But another part of me knows that suppressing something so fundamental to my nature might feel like slowly suffocating my own spirit. Growth is not something I chase to feel superior. It is something I chase because, when I look back and see how far I have come, that is usually my biggest source of joy and fulfilment. It drives me to be more compassionate, more aware.

So now I stand at this strange crossroads. I am grateful for the awareness I have gained, yet I feel the loneliness that sometimes comes with it. I wonder whether the answer is to stop growing, or whether the real answer is to keep going and trust that eventually I will meet people who are moving at a similar pace.For now, the fire is still there. And I am still learning what to do with it.