It’s not just that.

It’s not just that, it is knowing that you will bring everything about. The good, the bad and what seems bad but will turn out good, and what feels good but will sour. It is all in your hands. Somehow, I know that I do not need to rely on myself to get it all together.

First and foremost, I can’t. I am indisputably, undeniably and unchangeably me. There is a fat me sitting inside of me, and that me will not let me change or take charge where I have no business taking charge. I love to be loved, and I hate being judged, but I have very few options here. I can pretend, cover up and let’s be honest, I got pretty good at that. But at the end of the day, all I can do is shrug my shoulders and say: “Well, it is what it is.” And what I mean is: “It is me, and there is no way around me. I am here. I am the way I am.” By the by, it is not defiant. No, not at all. But it is final. Like a quiet finale where there could have been no other ending.

I have always admired this in people, their utter inability to be anyone else. They stick out like large triangles out of tiny round holes; they cannot help themselves. Even if it means loneliness and being shrouded in misunderstandings, these people cannot help it.

What I have realised only recently is that I am one of them.

I am shy about it. And I would like to become braver about it.

But whether I am brave or shy, I can’t help it. And that’s the thing.

I can only be what I am.