Growing up. One of those things in life we can do on our own terms. With all its pressures and everyone chipping in with what’s right and what isn’t, eventually it all comes down to us deciding what we are going to become. And that is the problem with irrevocable choice; plenty of room to make mistakes. Or at least that’s how it was and still is for me. I had too much time to walk the wrong paths. Anyone would tell you that is the surest way to lose yourself.
You see, I am not the average girl; the normal kid next door. I am what people most people call weird. I liked to think of myself as a naturally misplaced being with not the slightest sense of what is okay by a per-meditated set of societal rules. Consequently, I cannot really say I have always belonged. I can actually count the number of times I felt at home anywhere. Here is the funny part, home is not in that list. The last two years of high school kind of did. So need I say that I have been misjudged and misunderstood, and somewhat mistreated? And for a very long time, I didn’t care; or maybe I just didn’t notice.
Inevitably, I grew up. And I guess it’s true what they say, the fourth basic human want is need for acceptance. I have always been a lover of solitude, I cherished my personal space and I am yet to think of anything that I guarded as jealously as my privacy. But all of a sudden, who I was did not satisfy me. Being alone ceased to be my version of quality time. And boy, I did something about it. I went out of my way and looked for company. And what I mean by company is the one or two friends I have. Who I did not look for by the way. It kind of just happened. So what I mean is while I would usually flee from any social scene, I bullied myself into waving to those old classmates across the street, into replying those Facebook messages, into giving people my number.
What I never realized was that I lost myself in the process. I changed too much about myself. I guess I really needed to feel accepted and even the slightest bit normal. So I spoke too much; I practically have an opinion about everything(which is funny because people think I am awfully quiet),I laughed too hard, I trusted too easily, I loved too much. And yeah, I got hurt a lot of times. But thank god, that was a phase. I am beginning to think I am almost done growing up; the radical way. And a huge part of that is realizing that there is so much you can live without. And one of those things is this need to belong, to feel accepted, part of a pack.
And while I would like to sit here and pretend that I am trying to preach the don’t-ever-change-yourself-for-anyone gospel. This is not it. This is me taking a walk down memory and realizing that if I had the chance to take it all back, I would not. Except the getting hurt part. I am like a vampire when it comes to emotions. I am so intense. I don’t just like, I love. I don’t just dislike, I loathe, to the point where the sound of your breathing is enough to get me so mad, I could strangle you, or stab you with a folk, and just sit there grinning as you die slowly at my feet. I do not forgive and forget, I only push it to the back of my mind and pretend we are cool as I count the number of times you have gotten on my nerves, and when I reach my breaking point, chances are I will stab you in your sleep. And yeah, I just don’t get hurt. I am broken. It feels so bad and I get depressed. Then it goes to this hollow emptiness and eventually I just go numb. And then I lose my motivation and I start questioning my existence and purpose. I go through my days feeling lost and betrayed and I cry myself to sleep every night. I am so messed up years after an incident and it sucks. And then I go to not caring, so much so, if I was the one in a position to save you, you are as good as dead. And then I am done (not entirely), but I become indifferent. I look at you and feel nothing. Nothing about you affects me. And while that sounds as a bad thing, it is a good thing for me because I am not fighting the urge to kill you. And on some days, I am glad you are alive. So all this detail was my way of explaining that amidst all this changes and between those days of hating the person I have become and the others when I am obsessed with myself, I have somewhat learnt to find a middle ground with my emotions. And that is huge. I think it is the best thing I have done with my life.
And these past few years have been really hard for me. And I do not think anyone is having as hard a time growing up as I am. But today, I am okay with that. And like anyone my age, I am just getting to figure it out, getting comfortable in my own skin. Learning not to take offence when someone calls me a woman. Learning to live life. Understanding that it is not that serious. And you know what the best part is, I am capturing every moment.