ALONE FOR SANITY ONLY FOR THE INTEREST AND WELLNESS OF MENTAL HEALTH, THIS IS A DIRECT APPEAL AROUND THE GLOBE.
There comes a time when you sit back, look at your life, and painfully accept that maybe — just maybe — the safest way to survive in this world is alone. Not because you want to be, but because peace of mind has become too expensive to risk. In Kenya today, with the economy tightening its grip on the average mwananchi, relationships have taken a strange turn. Love feels less like a bond and more like a transaction — and if you can’t pay the price, you’re left standing alone at the counter.
We’re living in an era where the cost of living has outpaced the cost of loving. People are more focused on survival than connection. The average young Kenyan is drowning in hustle culture — waking up to side hustles, juggling multiple jobs, navigating toxic bosses, or simply praying that that one Mpesa message will come through before lunch. In this grind, genuine affection has become collateral damage.
You meet people, sure. They come into your life with sweet words and smooth promises, but most are wearing masks. Some are chasing clout. Others are still healing from heartbreaks they never talk about. Many are just tired — emotionally bankrupt, but still expecting interest from others. They’ll tell you they care, act like they’re serious, but when it comes to commitment, they’ll fumble the ball and blame you for dropping it.
And the sad truth? They’ll want you — but not enough to choose you. They’ll entertain you, flirt with the idea of a future, but leave the door open just enough to keep you confused. And in that confusion, your mental health starts to suffer. You’re left questioning your worth, wondering why your loyalty, honesty, and effort never seem to be enough.
We’re living in a time where toxicity has become romanticized. Red flags are now part of the aesthetic. Communication is replaced with mind games. People ghost instead of confronting their feelings. Honesty is rare, and consistency? That’s almost extinct. And all this unfolds in an environment where people are already emotionally worn out from economic struggles, family pressure, and social expectations.
You start to realize that you could give someone the world — not in material things, because let’s be real, even affording unga and rent is a fight — but in your time, love, support, and loyalty. But no one seems to have a table worth bringing all that to. The people who genuinely want to build with you are few and far between. Most just want to see what they can get before moving on.
And so, you make peace with the idea of being alone. Not bitterly — just realistically. Because in this country, in this economy, in this culture, protecting your peace feels like the only luxury you can still afford. Love shouldn’t feel like a gamble, but these days, it does. And until you meet someone who values peace over pride, communication over chaos, and effort over ego, staying single might just be the strongest, safest thing you can do.
Not because you’ve given up on love — but because you’ve finally chosen yourself.
