24.

If twenty-two was a hurricane, twenty-four is like a slowly rising wave, breaking up on the shore. And in this frothy blissfulness, I have found my present. I have found the neglected and abused pieces of my identity, the shattered and grief-stricken soul. Turgid, from being exposed to the constant palaver of the sea, the soul now lies in wait for all that could still be.

Being almost a quarter-century old, I am becoming more comfortable in my own skin. Not that I never was, but I’m realizing that I always was my own person. I was responsible, for my peculiar way of life, which I relinquished half-heartedly. Yet, I found many ways to tie my true identity to half of my heart.

Half of my heart now beats when no one is hovering over me; it is elated when no one is around. The passion within me burns brighter when I’m alone. And if this is the case, it doesn’t imply that the other case has to be true too – that I do not enjoy the company of other people.

Upon reading several articles on Introverts, I’ve found that there was never anything wrong with me, as I had always been made to feel. Clearly, I am a homebody – but not unadventurous. I simply care more about where I utilize my energy, after it has been half-drained by my work.

Ironically, I understood the power of being alone, when I moved away from home. I understood my limitations, and reaped the gifts of time. I understood that my friends, who enjoyed sticking together, were different from me. I realized that their anger towards my personality was not unjustified, but the guilt that arose in me was.

I realized how much I loved stillness, calmness, and silence, when I sat on a hill with another introvert.  And like a staccato arpeggio that lets the music breathe, our voices never disturbed the sound of nature. I understood then, how there was no such thing as awkward silence for me, because small-talk drained me.

And now I am 24. When in the past, these realizations might have casted shadow over everything that I did; this reflection is now my only strength. I was never angry, but I always was, and am, fearful of what people are capable of doing to my psyche. Like the guy I loved, who twisted my own personality for his own convenience. But I am stronger now, stronger than I had ever been before. I am alone now, but I’m never, ever, lonely.

Because the older I grow, the more I crave for myself, the more I crave for that small empty space with that one good person. The older I grow, the more I see myself taking a few steps back, the more I lose touch with reality, the more I want to un-settle, un-adjust.

I am looking at life through the rose tinted glasses of mine, I am growing old backwards. I am accepting myself. And making my world peculiar for everyone else again.