On growing up
I am halfway through my twenties and still not sure I qualify as an adult …
I’ve probably got plenty life experience under my belt having navigated two big cities on my own, lived alone for 3 years and having to rely entirely on myself for my own wellbeing .
But at the same time , I lack the capacity and the ability to truly love. To care enough for a non-blood related human being to allow them into my sphere.
That’s what makes me doubt my true maturity. And in all honesty, I am unsure whether I will ever be grown enough to reach that space.
I resent having people in my space for an extended length of time, quickly growing weary of engagement and having to dissemble.
Yet, at the same time, quite paradoxically, I give too much. I fail to draw up clear boundaries on my generosity until that wake up moment when it hits me that my giving is hardly ever reciprocated and I am back to square one where I withdraw into myself and look to my own internal resources for companionship and emotional sustenance.
Love songs croon in sad soliloquy about being alone; which makes me wonder , what’s so terrifying about being alone? Isn’t solitude the most liberating state where you can truly discover yourself ?
I probably won’t think this when I am nearing 40 or 50, but for now, I am perfectly content being alone ,with myself for company without the emotional labour required by needy friendships .