Back to Me

This is a blog I missed writing in.

It’s a celebration of freedom and independence.

Well, I’m back to continue celebrating freedom and independence – the kind that I’ve grown up thriving in, the only kind that I can breathe properly in, the kind that has no room for the thing normal people term as a relationship.

Now, before you start to pass the judgment that, alas this chirpy advocate of single-hood, simply cannot get over herself and her deep attachment to single-hood, I’ve to start off with the disclaimer that I now feel more at ease with myself that I ever did before.

Having gone forth to try out the thing called a relationship by the majority of my normal peers, I can now peacefully claim that it is not for me. I’ve given it a shot and it didn’t work out well and though I ended things rather one-sidedly, which others might describe as something unfair, I describe it as life-saving because I was not able to breathe.

It was stifling and I could not breathe and as someone who treasures my mind a lot, oxygen deprivation is the number one thing I strive to avoid at all costs. Nothing can hurt me more than my brain being hurt.

The thing that stifled me was not a person, not an event or anything that can be salvaged, with or without hindsight.

I was stifled by the fact that a relationship is not something that is for me and I was wasting everybody’s time by trying to make that thing work so that I can be like every other normal person out there who seems to have no trouble reconciling their sense of selves with the demands of being in a relationship.

I am grateful that I’ve family and friends and some worldly experiences through which I know I’m not someone incapable of love (aka sociopath).

I suppose it is a little surprising to me that despite all the knowledge I’ve gained over the years from reading books about humans and their relationships, I’ve come to realize that the love that is typified by the kind of boy-girl relationship is not for me. Because it is too narrow and there is no room to contain the amount of space that my sense of self needs. I’d truly rather devote myself to spending my time and life doing things that require free spirits who have an innate penchant for wandering.

I guess anything I try to say sounds unbelievably vague, especially for the majority of the population, who have the ability to handle relationships without batting an eyelid. While I admire that, I have no desire for such an ability because I know that there is no room for something like that compatible with the sense of self that I have painstakingly spent the past two decades of my life building and solidifying.

Maybe some people might think this is some form of mental fault or psychological shortcoming in my head, and they are entitled to have their own views and whatever.

What I am certain of is that I’m back now and I’m even more myself than ever.


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