It’s a strange thing to look out into a sea of people and know so few. It’s even stranger to be sitting in the back of the crowd, monitoring instead of letting it engulf you. Being an adult instead of a youth.

I am 20. Too old to be a youth, but not old enough to have full adult responsibilities. I used to be good at being a youth. Despite my dislike of crowds, I used to be good at giving myself over to them. Being one with the people around me, whether I knew them or not.

But I can’t do that anymore. I am not an silly tween nor am I a carefree teenager. I have responsibilities, anxieties and prejudices that hold me back from trusting just anyone.  I can’t go back to that carefreeness of being a youth but I’m not yet ready to be selfless enough to become an adult leader. This puts me in an interesting position.

So, here I am. On the outskirts. But that’s ok. I’ve always enjoyed the outskirts.

I sit watching people let themselves go, give themselves up but I’m somehow out of the moment. Which sounds crazy because I’m right there with them. I’m doing everything they’re doing.

In order to find my place in these events again after graduation, I had to remove myself from them. In the beginning I thought it was necessary. In order to get respect from the people who have seen me grow up, I thought that my only choice was to remove myself and it worked.

However, I now know that removing myself doesn’t mean rejoicing or believing any less. It’s just where I fit. It’s where I’m comfortable. I know that these things are always about “pushing your boundaries” or  whatever but the truth is there’s nothing I hate the most than pushing my social boundaries.

If what we’re supposed to do it give up our baggage than here’s mine: I’m  a workaholic, whether it’s running a social media campaign, writing VBS scripts or taking painfully long shifts at my real job, I am a workaholic. I’m a control freak. Everything has to be planned to the minute or I WILL have a fit. I’m an introvert, which is why I’d rather snap and post pictures of other people having fun than actually engage in it myself. That sentence sounded sad, but it’s not. Too much interaction makes me physically tired.

My biggest bag is that I love my baggage. It’s what keeps me going. How do I give it up? Especially since I’ve gained so much more since the last time I let go.


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