About Me — Yoli Cimino
Processing life in coffee shops, through blue light glasses.
When I was 18, I realized my whole life I’d been labeling myself.
Awkward
Ugly
Unlovable
I put myself into little labeled boxes that others had prescribed for me, and for some reason, I myself bought into. This was just how I was. I couldn’t change.
I was always a deep thinker, a stereotypical angsty teen reader. Boxes are familiar and cozy. When I was thirteen and realized I didn’t understand makeup and didn’t know how to socialize with the blonde popular girls at my high school, I discovered the label Introvert.
That felt nice. Suddenly I belonged. Sure, it was to a bunch of people who didn’t know me on the internet — but, but, they understand — shhh thirteen-year-old Yoli; I was deeply unhappy.
Over the years I added new labels to my box. Cynic became a favorite as I sat on the bleachers during gym class in 10th grade. My friend and I laughed about the girls who were “too cool” and rolled our eyes.
“I don’t even want to go to homecoming” — I did.
But my friend agreed with me because it made us feel better. We escaped to our 500-page novels because, to quote Harry Potter, “Anywhere’s better than here.”
Books were safe. And I had plenty. Sure, I had no date for prom, and I was too scared to look a boy in the eyes, but in my books, Mr. Darcy was pledging his love to Elizabeth, so what did it matter. And so, I lived my high school years vicariously through ancient eyes.
College
College changed everything. And like every good heroine, I had to start fresh. So, I chose a school 7 hours away, where no one knew my name.
And let me tell you, it was hard. For the first time, I stepped right out of my box.
Antisocial — gone.
Shy — gone.
Awkward — okay maybe not gone, but ignored.
Straight “A” Student — and this one was probably a good box, but it’s okay because what’s important is that for the first time I didn’t let anyone, not society, my parents, my friends, or even me, define myself.
And it was exhilarating.
Today
I’m much more of a free spirit. I’m still easily stressed and anxious. Sometimes to the point of being curled up, crying in bed with Taylor Swift blasting for hours on end — but I’ve done things that thirteen-year-old Yoli would be appalled at.
Like traveling. I have been fortunate enough to sip a cappuccino in Rome, and tea in London. I’ve gotten drinks from strange men in seaside bars and danced around the Duomo in Florence at midnight. I’ve looked out at the Italian coast and wondered at the stars and how infinitesimally small I am.
Or dating. Some of those misadventures are for another time. And though I am once again, single, I’ve learned that love is truly the only reason we are alive.
But the beauty of getting rid of labels is you can keep the ones you like. Dreamer is my favorite. And thirteen-year-old Yoli, you will be excited to know that I still very much like to ponder life in coffee shops, it’s all the caffeine in the air, right? but now I wear blue light glasses —thanks a lot for reading in the dark till 1 a.m. — and though I’m much busier than you were, I still occasionally read big books.
As cliche as it may be, I decided to start living my own story. And as dreary as this chapter is, I know there’s something exciting on the next page.
