There’s a specific, strange kind of loneliness that has nothing to do with being alone. It shows up when you’re surrounded by people whose outlook differs sharply from yours, especially when they seem to be quietly imposing that outlook and you say nothing, for whatever reason.

A few things tend to be true when this happens. There’s a sense of separation between you and the other person, in place of the connection that’s usually there when things feel easy. There’s often a felt disconnection from something larger than yourself too, however you define that. There’s frequently a quiet judgment running underneath: a sense that you’re right and they’re wrong, which breeds annoyance or pity rather than genuine connection. Much of what’s happening is also likely to be mind-reading: assuming intentions that were never actually there. And underneath much of it is simply fear of speaking up.

A few things help. Remind yourself that a good deal of what feels certain in these moments is interpretation, not fact: you’re filling gaps, deleting nuance, and distorting what was actually said to fit an existing expectation. Extend the assumption that the other person is doing their best with what they know, rather than deliberately working against you. Treat differing beliefs as a learning opportunity rather than a personal affront: there’s no scoreboard for who’s “right.” Remind yourself, in the moment, that you’re part of something larger and not actually as isolated as it feels. And practice letting go of an exchange that bothered you more quickly than your instinct suggests: the faster you can move past it, the less residue it leaves.

At bottom, chronic loneliness in company tends to come from a quiet victim frame: a “poor me” position that all but guarantees the feeling it fears. The way out is usually to confront whatever fear is keeping you quiet, ask yourself honestly what the best possible outcome of speaking up might be, and then actually speak.