A Love Letter To The People Who Keep Me.
Hey, you. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to convince myself that I should be the kind of person who can do everything alone. You know the type. They disappear for weeks, carry everything themselves, and somehow never seem to need help. Somewhere along the way, I bought into the idea that independence is the final form, and that needing people is something you eventually outgrow. I really wanted to be that person, mostly because I thought I was supposed to be. The funny thing is, if you met me for the first time, you’d probably think I am. I’m socially awkward enough that I spend an embarrassing amount of time replaying conversations in my head, I overthink texts, I sometimes wonder if I’ve spoken too much or too little, and I can be quiet in rooms full of people. I mistook all of these things for being someone who preferred solitude. Turns out, they’re two completely different things. Because one thing I’ve learned about myself, over and over again, is this: I ...