“I want to see you.
Know your voice.
Recognize you when you
first come ’round the corner.
Sense your scent when I come
into a room you’ve just left.
Know the lift of your heel,
the glide of your foot.
Become familiar with the way
you purse your lips
then let them part,
just the slightest bit,
when I lean in to your space
and kiss you.
I want to know the joy
of how you whisper
“more”
— Rumi
2016 has been very different so far.
As the second month draws to an end, I am reminded of the many emotions that have coursed through me in this time.
A lot has happened, mostly to others, but the energy swirls around me and affects me all the same. This is different. Usually the years come and go, without leaving any visible impact on my life. I go through life stages, even achieve things, but my life has pretty much always moved sideways, no high highs and no lows.
But this year is different, I have started to feel.
I feel myself evolving, almost like a caterpillar slowly shedding off its old skin. I am feeling things that I thought my heart was too dead to feel; things like sadness and love. I am beginning to realise the essence of companionship, starting to learn the art of communicating with friends and the importance of keeping in touch. My bad habits are glaring, and I can no longer file them under “that’s just who I am.” I am learning to be more careful with my memories, and less reckless with my friendships.
Finally, I am beginning to understand what people mean when they say they need to go find themselves. I don’t believe one has to quit school or move to India to find oneself, but I understand it now. I now know how important it is to have something to be passionate about, and I am acutely aware of my lack of passions. I am getting older, nearing the age where certain decisions can no longer be pushed away and happily ignored. Certain realities have to be faced.
I am starting to feel, to want things, crave them even. I am beginning to want to try new things. I am slowly relinquishing my title of a one woman island. I think I might have just come out of a funk I was not even aware I was in.
I am not completely changed, and I don’t want to be. I am still awkward and fearful, and still nonchalant about a plethora of things. I am not yet a Butterfly, but I am finally growing, and I wonder what took so long.
“I have such a fear of finding another like myself, and such a desire to find one! I am so utterly lonely, but I also have such a fear that my isolation be broken through, and I no longer be the head and ruler of my universe.”
― Anaïs Nin,
Introversion sucks.
Point blank period end of discussion.
Sure it’s all good in the beginning; skipping out on parties and get-togethers to hang out with yourself. It’s nice to be alone, by yourself, with your thoughts, a book and a movie. The thought of screaming in a club in unappealing, hell the thought of being around other people is exhausting. You enjoy your company the most, and there’s nothing wrong with that. You are introverted and proud.
Until one day you realise that you do not know how to function in society.
I mean, you always knew that you were “different”. Everyone else seemed so comfortable being social, having lots of best friends and being the life of the party. You were pretty much a happy loner, you had-have- friends but you don’t keep in touch regularly. You have never really craved company and you have never needed others to make you feel good. You have always been okay with being alone until now.
You begin to realise, corny as it sounds, that no human is an island. Maybe it would be nice to have best friends that you can yap on and on about nothing with. Maybe it would be nice to have lots of pictures commemorating the fun times you and your friends have had. Maybe you should have socialised a bit more. Maybe you should have tried harder to make and maintain relationships. You begin to realise how necessary human companionship is. The conversations you have with yourself? You wish to have them with another human being. The scenarios you play in your head? You wish for them to be reality. You still have no desire to be the life of the party, but you sometimes wish you had more excitement in your life.You are tired of only showing your real self in certain settings when you are really comfortable, tired of people saying they did not know you were this crazy. You want to be comfortable at all times, at least comfortable enough to talk to people.
But one’s personality is difficult to change, especially in later years. You cannot simply become extroverted. Introversion still weighs down on you; you want to talk to people and mingle, and at the same time you want to be left alone. Be my friend, but no please don’t bother me. It would be nice to have everyone make a big deal of your birthday, but at the same time the thought of all the attention makes you dizzy and afraid.
Besides, everyone else is so different. You cannot relate to their experiences, and you do not think you have much to add to their conversations. You really want to have fun and at the same time you really do not want to leave your room. Your Fear Of Missing Out is strong, but it’s no match for your Reluctance To Leave Your Room.
Everyone one around you is chatting away about their weekends, and you’re seated alone wishing you could yap away as well, but grateful that no one is talking to you because, well you have nothing to say about your weekend. So you just read your book or check your phone.
Fed up with the solitude, you want to start actively making changes; and you try contacting friends you have not communicated with in ages. Their lives have moved on quite a bit, because the lives of others do not stop just because you haven’t spoken in a while. It stings a little-a lot- that they did not tell you of these momentous changes in their lives. But what right do you have to their lives Ms. Introversion? Miss I don’t like to speak on the phone or text or communicate in anyway. Miss I let my phone ring because I really do not have the strength to carry on a conversation. Being introverted is not an excuse. “That’s just the way I am” is child babble.
It is hard to change and most times it seems impossible. Introversion is not an uncool-cool trait that writers and other creatives have. There are degrees to it and at the far end are those who cannot speak in public without feeling as if their heart will explode. Those who panic when they think someone is coming to speak to them. Those who rehearse future conversations and bail out on social gatherings because they have nothing to say.
It is nice to be by oneself, but it is also nice-necessary even- to leave the confines of one’s private sphere and go be with people. Laugh, take pictures, build a tribe, make memories. Life is not meant to be lived alone.
Gobbledygook 