She seems like an infinitesimal being, a little giant, and you really would never know that she exists; She is the stormy Winter, the peaceful summer, she dwells in the very oxymoron that she had become: an extroverted introvert, out going but never had the nerve to make a complaint, always the center of attention but too afraid to be listened to.
Growing up, I had been the very timid girl, the one who never spoke up when needed, the one who cried silently behind closed doors; then I became the out going one, the one who always has something funny to say to try to avoid real issues, the "never too shy" confident person. But In reality, I was lost and confused, I kept most things to myself because I sincerely do not understand the rave of the moment, you know " everybody trying to become everybody else". I never share my sincere opinion about an issue because irrespective of the fact that I understand we are all different and have individual subjective views, my "truth" is constantly changing like the tides of the pacific and most persons expect you to be stagnant in perception and unchanging; and if I choose to be hyperactive today and then the next day I become silent, I am considered "weird" and possibly "mad".
You know, everybody expects you to fit into their worlds, but the truth is that self realization is like marijuana, addictive, yet the pleasure from the high will leave you coming back for more.
So, peradventure you meet me guarded, stuck up in a different world, know that we were born into a society imposed class structure of not only material wealth but also of the mind, and I hope to develop at my own pace, understand things for myself and by myself, and just live for myself and not according to conventions and sentiments; and that I can't promise to be readily available whenever you want me, but I will when you need me, so, love me in my silence, love me during my loud chatters, love this introverted extrovert who struggles everyday to exist.
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