I've always thought and said change would always be present. But I never actually thought I'd undergo one. Yet I've recently been repeatedly told I've changed. Did I?
I keep asking myself. I keep answering "No.", of course, I keep telling myself that this has been me since years back, that it's normal, maybe people saw too much of my cheekbones or smile these days and maybe that's just it, little differences exacerbated, just to keep myself comfortable with me. I mean, sure, I've been used to people leaving me out, not to make it dramatic, but I've always been that kid on the corner of a party thinking of a way out, even if it's definitely obvious no one cares, just to keep himself comfortable for the fact that, one way or another, there might be somebody who'd ask on the way "Oh, where are you going?" "Why are you leaving?", or for the very least, "Hi, I'm a friend of that guy over there, and he's hoping he might get your number?". It's a big ruse you somehow blanket yourself, not to fantasize, not to think you might matter enough, not to think it's a better way to go, but a simple way to keep yourself warm and comfortable. It's like thinking a little bit deeper with those "I miss you"s you receive at the begining of the class year, that maybe it's not just a wary social contract in which people say just for the sake of saying it, that maybe, right underneath it, they actually spent at least 5 seconds of actually thinking of you while tweeting you during the vacation, actually smiling while liking your post on facebook or actually think about your silliest latest post on tumblr, that they actually really mean that they actually really missed you.
But one night I woke up and checked my phone. No notifications, no nothing, just a blinding light saying "12:02 AM", the exact middle of the night. My parents turned off everything, and my laptop died waiting for me. Quite flattering, something that can't live without me for more than 4 hours. But turning on one light each on the way, trying so hard wipe off every imagination of a headless man on my way to the kitchen, I made myself a delightful coffee. A sleep of complete 12 hours and a cup of a creamy personal, almost intimate, coffee. My parents are deep asleep so nobody's yelling "is that you, [insert your name here]"? When I know they know it's me, unless if it's a burglar, you wouldn't actually want them to know where the sound comes from, where you are and finally, where will they bury you after they take everything. Bury, or burn. One letter difference, means the same to life.
I sip my first drop of something after 12 hours, my first warmth after I moved too much while sleeping, lost my blanket and shivered for the rest of it. I sip my first drop of heaven, I mean, coffee, and something familiar came to me. At first, it was just one voice, one that's been close to my heart years back. After some time, it became a group of voices, almost a sound of a rebellion, a "front-stab", slut shaming my very self and rubbing it on my very face, without warning, in two simple words.
It raised my attention immediately. In a matter of three seconds, I gulped the biggest bulk of steaming liquid of coffee I could take in, as if it's Bloody Mary and I've actually been meaning to get badly drunk. Did I, indeed, change? Or in a more accurate group of, and I'm completely aware that they are, worthless words to that question, shouldn't I? Don't get me wrong, I'm not mad, disappointed, angry, irritated, I'm more of shocked and confused. I have a lot of questions to the question, and they might not even be able to disintegrate the question just by themselves. I'm losing. I can't keep myself comfortable anymore. I can't keep myself thinking I could cross the room and get out without making a fuss.
Truth be told, I'm scared to death and back to life. I'm scared that people will notice me, all of me, including my flaws. I know it's cliche, but truth is, I've always wanted to cross the room and get out, not because I don't want to be in the room, not because I don't want the crowd, not because I never felt like I actually belong. I've always wanted to get out because I'm fucking scared of being rejected. Not in front of other people, but in front of the self I respect and try so hard to adore and keep comfortable, all my life. And at one point, people did. I tried my hardest to keep myself comfortable but people just made and made a way to make me prove to myself that I'm worthless. That whatever I did, I'm just really nothing in the room. That I'm unlikely, skin and soul. That I have too much holes, too much flaws, too much of not what is expected. No. No. No. Get out. Get out. Get out. Yes, one of my greatest fears happened--me opening up to people and people rejecting me, over and over and over and over again. The person I tried so hard to please is a person proved worst by other people--myself.
Now, if you ask me, did I change?
I never knew in my full consciousness, and I never wanted to, but I guess I had to. It's my only ride away. It's the only thing that kept me sane the whole time, working on myself, trying so hard to figure out which one is the greatest flaw, and trying so hard to understand it. And the whole time, I learned, change is not you as a caterpillar morphing into a complete different creature. That's a complete myth. For me, change is a whole new world, where there isn't a place for yourself to be rejected. Change is myself understanding, not becoming, the greatest self I could ever see, adore, respect, and rightfully give life to. Change is myself becoming whole like I've never been before. I did change, not because I was pushed around, rejected and minimized. I changed for myself, and I'm thankful people made me realize, that standing there, at that room, the whole time, never actually made me think of myself. Instead, I've been busy thinking about what people might be thinking of me. I changed because I realized I never actually needed anybody's company, approval or rejection, that I can do a solitary walk, listening to music alone and be in complete content. For once in my life, I realized I needed change, because for once in my life, I actually saw myself in my full potential.
So you ask me again, because it was all blabber, cloudy, vague and possibly out of context for you, and you just want a concise answer, did I change?
Yes, I did. Push me away, kill me, bury me, burn me, I never felt indifferent like ever before. Not because I refuse to, but because I realized and fully understood all of my mind, my words, my beliefs, my ideologies. And these, these you'll never ever ever kill. The thing that truly make me beautiful is that now that I fully understand myself, and I can be myself. I can never be scared of my worst demons, I have them on my chains. Or yours, I have you on your very own chains, on your very own limits, on your limited minds and toxic thoughts, you thinking you could pull people down with you. Because, at last, I changed.
I changed for the better.
It's been a couple of minutes and, alas! I savored the rest of my coffee.
