If I ask you to list three things which you found yourself differs from others, I bet you can write five, or even more. Because if I have learned anything as life keeps going on, one of them would be: Everyone thinks they’re painfully distinct from others. Everyone suffers from how hard it is to found people who are alike them, who resonates, who understands them, and who would accept them as they are. Because, I, setting aside the ego inside of me, am too.
But I found it to be a little bit more suffocating when that distinction is… bluntly pointed out by others. It is as if they’re screaming their chest out from the rooftop, “We’re so different and I wish I don’t have to tolerate you!!!” People say if we’re secure enough with ourselves, other’s opinion of us won’t matter. But isn’t it so funny to expect people to be secure of themselves when they’re surrounded by mental jeopardy? Where is exactly the security we’re talking about?
From the age of 14, living alone has always been a vision of mine. The thought of reading books in peace, failing new recipes without taking up kitchen space from others, setting up interiors the way I like, and choosing a fancy perfume to mark my own territory have always entertained me. It was an idea that somehow, for a second, lets me escape the burden from how contrast of a person I am compared to others.
And that vision includes no relationship in it. Away from my family, just regular catching up with friends, and zero romantic relationship. Yes, I was that person who wished to just make money and spend them for makeup products I won’t use and my cats. Because we know how much stress could a relationship contribute, right? I love Love, though. But apparently Love won’t always love you back. Love comes with a medium: A person who apparently, too, should accept and embrace you despite the differences and flaws in between, yet most of us aren’t capable of that. And the universe has constantly showed me that. As if I am meant to keep running away, from the fear of being pushed away by someone I love.
However, after all these years, I can’t get this one question out of my head. “Why should I runaway?” All I do is trying to be the best of a person I could get. Why should I runaway just because I text people first before I call them? Why should I runaway just because I don’t use curse words as often as my peers? Why should I runaway just because I have a completely different humour than people around me? Why should I runaway just because I like the feeling of peace that comes with silence instead of the adrenaline chaos brings? Why should I runaway just because I carry my principals with me?
And this morning, after a conversation with someone in which she said, “It’s just the way people like you are. You are like a princess to us who don’t know how to treat a princess,” I realized that running away might have just been the norm for me. Because if I am ever a princess, I am a princess with no castle. A princess whose bed are just like her people, but can’t take off the crown that hurts her head in her sleep. I am running towards the life that people want, but at the same time away from the life people are actually living. And to be in between-ness is never better than running away either.
Now, I am 18 and I am the closest I’ve ever been to the scenario I’ve always dreamed. But neither does living alone seem to be as dreamy. Lately, I found myself running away from myself instead. And it is undoubtedly a waste of time and energy, because I would always come back to myself again, for I am the only person who would tolerate the things in me people tried their best to avoid.
But if I am meant to keep running away my whole life, then why is it so tiring?
