Sometimes it seems as if I am walking like a stalker amongst the nineteen strangers in this room. So unsociable, I rather sit alone and be submerged by my thoughts. I can hear murmurs, laughter and loud whispers, drowning me into a pool of tedium. I am just glad I have my pen and paper as I fully resurrect the soul in me, the unseen force that is always patiently waiting for my mind to work the words. Truly, I live the monotonous life. So boringly the same yet comfortably beautiful. I am, yet, to find my place in this group of beautiful people. In the meantime, I still do drift back to rediscover the solace in arms of friends I left.
Yes. It is always good to hear from a friend – most comforting enough to know that I wasn’t forgotten. That the camaraderie was not reduced to mere fragments of the past. Though I must admit that it was because of my passiveness that others chose to leave, those that stayed understood more about my indifference. I am strange in so may ways. Odd to say that I love the silence… I love the distance. I think I have grown a lot knowing that I am not obligated to bend and sway in fear of harming anyone. I am not lonely as some might conclude, neither do I need someone to frequently patronize me. I am where my heart is… a place so calm and serene. A world where I let only few trickle in to learn about my deepest secrets, unfathomable hope, wildest dreams and steady pride. Pride. Pride, all this time, has fueled my spirit. An art I carefully practice for self-preservation.
I don’t claim to be righteous for I am not. However, I hope not to be measured by my imperfections but with my sincere heart. I hope not to be judged by the number of people I hold close to me but by the compassion I extend towards them.