Picture this: New Year’s Eve party in a large basement of a house with no parents in sight. The year that is coming to an end is located somewhere in the 90s. In this enormous basement, that is just as big as the house upstairs and includes a kitchen, there are about ten girls and seven guys. The guys are in their twenties, the girls are all teens.
Don’t worry about the girls. It’s a small town, one of those places where everybody knows everybody – and their parents – and nobody has brought anything more dangerous that wine. In a corner, a girl with long brown hair and big eyebrows on an oval face is looking at her left, while a guy seated at her right side is struggling to have a conversation with her.
“So… you really are shy!”
She turns her head and gives him the look. If you have a cat, you know the look.
“I’m not shy – she quickly chooses and discards three possible answers, one more sour than the previous, then she bites her lips – is just that I like to stay on my own.”
“But you’ve come here, among people, so…”
“You really aren’t a cat person…”
End of story. This was me more than twenty years ago and I don’t think I am changed. I like to see people from a distance. I cherish my time alone. To really miss somebody, it has to be somebody I used to see often, without feeling the desire to cut off his or her head. Don’t get me wrong, I am usually kind and cheerful with people but I am also cold.
Do I really want to change this part of me? It’s hard. This way of doing keeps me alone, harms me, but it helps me being self-sufficient. I also feel that it is a big part of me, of my personality. Does it happen to you? What part of you that you know it’s harming you, it’s also a part that you don’t want to lose? Have you ever questioned yourself about it?
In the meanwhile, thank for your precious time.