Independence

I didn't realize how much I've gotten used to doing stuff on my own until moving back home. I had my own room in the dorms last year, from August to May, and that was fun, if a tad lonely at times. Mostly on weeknights and during the daytime on weekends. Lots of reading, lots of sudoku, lots of Facebook. Too much Facebook, probably. It was the same this summer. I lived with Sean, Joe, and Pad, but Joe and Pad worked all day and I worked at night, so we didn't cross paths as often as you'd think. Besides, whenever we were all in the apartment, we all just kind of let each other be. We all kinda did our own thing, sleep-wise, entertainment-wise, food-wise. We didn't force our presences on each other too often, if that makes sense.

I'm kind of used to being left alone, as sad as that sounds. I don't mind spending a Wednesday night making headway in a good book or a Friday night going to a movie by myself (like I did last Friday - (500) Days of Summer was phenomenal). If I end up hanging out with other people along the way, that's great, but I've stopped believing that that's what I have to do to be happy. It's too much effort, making plans night after night after night just to avoid being alone. Or maybe I've just gotten used to it after years of practice.

But being home, I can't do my own thing like I'm used to. I've gotten accustomed to never being bothered, so when I get interrupted every ten minutes to 'come look at this thoughtful newspaper article' or 'meet the new neighbor's fiance,' it just grates on me after a while. I know that part of coming home is having every aspect of your life called into question ("Do you always sleep this late?"), but it's such a 180 from the past year of my life that I feel on edge all the time. They seem to just want me to be there, to hang around downstairs and be around them. And I know they're my parents, and they love me, and I love them, and all that, but I'm a creature of solitude. It's less stressful.

Meh, whatever. I'm leaving a week from tomorrow. I can power through till then.

From the archives.

Wrote this sophomore year of high school. Reading it now is weird, I can tell you that. What a difference five years makes. I want to either give my old self a hug or punch him in the face. Still a good bit of writing, though, I think.

Once, there was this kid. He wasn't really an unhappy kid, but sometimes things didn't go his way. He has a lot of people that know him, less that he calls friends, and even less that he calls good friends. He's not ignored or anything, he's not some kind of pariah. But whenever there's a party or some friends of his are getting together, for some reason they never call him to join in.

So here's this kid, living day by day, going to school, doing his homework, doing extracurriculars. He's not unhappy, again, but he's not really, truly happy. He knows that what would make him happy aren't good grades, or a scholarship to some college, but a group of really close friends that would just get him. Not a bunch of acquaintances that he's on good terms with, but people that he wouldn't hesitate for a second to call at 2 a.m. and ask some inane philosophical question. People who would drop pre-existing plans to hang out with him on a Saturday night. People who this usually quiet kid can actually talk around, because he knows that even if he says something stupid, he won't get made fun of and shut out for it.

One day, this kid goes to a Chinese restaurant. He gets a fortune cookie and opens it up. His fortune says, "You have the ability to touch the lives of many other people." Now, this really makes the kid think. He realizes that even if he doesn't have perfect happiness in his life right now, his mere presence might be making other people's lives a little bit better. The girl he comforts online when she needs some advice about her boyfriend. The guy who he helps with math homework during lunch. Being the “nice guy,” the dependable one, who's always willing to lend a hand. The kid realizes that maybe he's not destined to find happiness, true love, best friends. But maybe he's a catalyst. Maybe his purpose here on earth (and we all have one, I’m sure) is to make the lives of the people he knows better. In little ways, like holding a door, or maybe in big ways, like reconciling two fighting friends. Isn't that better, the kid ponders? Isn't it nice to know that you're out there doing good for people you love? That satisfaction of knowing that you did a good deed, as opposed to the different kind of satisfaction of knowing that your own life is complete?

Anyway, now this kid keeps that fortune in his wallet. He looks at it once in awhile to remind himself that his life isn't wasted. Even though he's got problems of his own, his mere existence makes peoples' lives better. And that makes him feel better for a while.