I was made for another planet altogether. I mistook the way.

The comfort of being cosmic misfits

There's something oddly comforting about Borges' idea that we might simply be misfitted creatures in the wrong universe. Rather than accepting that something's wrong with us, he suggests the problem might be cosmic: we arrived at the wrong address. Most of us have felt this at some point—sitting in a meeting that makes no sense, or surrounded by people chasing something we can't quite want, wondering if everyone else got the instruction manual we never received.

But here's the twist: Borges wasn't claiming victimhood. He was claiming specificity. He'd spent his life writing labyrinths and impossible libraries, thinking in patterns most people found beautifully strange. Instead of trying to fix himself to fit the world, he doubled down on his own strangeness and made it the whole point. The "mistake" became his signature.

The real insight is that feeling alien might not mean you're broken—it might mean you're genuinely oriented differently. The question isn't how to squeeze yourself into a shape that fits. It's whether you're willing to stop apologizing for the planet you're actually made for, and instead build something there, even if others think you're living in the wrong world entirely.