I'm a bit of a loner. I don't really enjoy the company of lots of people. I'm at my happiest when I'm all on my own, laptop in hand or a good book (currently Game of Thrones. My god. It's amazing. Post to come.). For the last 2 years, I've been at a boarding school where I could disappear for a few hours, get away from society and do my own thing, ALONE. I didn't feel left out or anything, I just prefer my own company.
I get exhausted trying to make small talk to people for hours on end. I really hate it when you sit with someone and they tell you the same story over and over and over again because they'd rather hear the sound of their own voice than some peace and quiet. My boyfriend and I were discussing this the other day and he told me he didn't feel uncomfortable when neither of us were talking. I hadn't realised it up until that point but, looking back on it, I hadn't realised how often we end up sitting in silence. It's not that we have nothing to talk about. We are just able to enjoy each other's company without constantly filling the air with pointless noise.
I'm used to not taking part in conversations. I keep quiet and listen. Not because I don't have anything to add or because I feel uncomfortable around people. I just don't feel the need to be constantly engaged in conversation. I don't feel uncomfortable sitting quietly with somebody, enjoying their company without having to endure their conversation.
Maybe there's something wrong with the wiring in my brain that causes me to lack the need for communication with others. Maybe the people I spend time with just have too much to say. Either way, I find myself getting wound up by spending long periods of time with some people in my life. I don't blame them, (well I do at the time). It's not necessarily their fault. My family have grown up surrounded by lots of people, being taught that it's polite to make small talk and keep a conversation going.
The whole stigma surrounding "awkward silences" drives me crazy. I believe that there's a great comfort that comes from silence. The people I feel happiest with, I can sit alone with, sharing our thoughts. But most importantly, having thoughts. I struggle to comprehend how people are able to keep conversations going for hours on end. I take time to think things through. I can't come up with immediate responses to the 100 questions that are thrown in my direction during a conversation with my mother.
Don't get me wrong, I can be a grumpy cow. I snap at people when I'm tired or hungry. I'm no model citizen but nothing frustrates me more than somebody trying to spark up conversation with me when I'm trying to read. I went out to sit alone on the balcony and read my book today. My aunt appeared at the balcony door (they had been out on the balcony on the other side of the house) and asked me why I was sat on my own when they were all out having a chat. I told her I just wanted some peace and quiet to read so she decided to round everyone up and bring them out on to the balcony beside me. Peace shattered.
I think it must be quite frustrating for people who talk all the time to spend time with me. I sit in silence, without even acknowledging people as they come and go. I know it's rude. Small talk is just part of the basic manners that your parents teach you when you're little. Chew with your mouth closed, say please and thank you, never sit in silence.
I'd like to make a request to those of you who spend time with me on a regular basis. Please believe me when I say that I don't intend to be rude. I'm not ignoring you and I'm not in a bad mood. Sometimes I just need some quiet time. I don't hate you, you probably haven't done anything wrong. I dont want you to take offence to this, but I enjoy my company more than yours. There's only one person that I'd be happy to be with 24 hours a day. Just like me, he enjoys the quiet.
When he was here with me, we would float side by side in the pool, each of us reading. Together but not talking. Just being with each other. I never thought I could spend so much time exclusively with one person without them driving me up the wall. I've never enjoyed being around anyone before. I normally endure people until I can find a reason to escape. Things have changed now. Instead of dreaming of getting away from everyone to be alone, I dream of running away to him.
I'm used to not taking part in conversations. I keep quiet and listen. Not because I don't have anything to add or because I feel uncomfortable around people. I just don't feel the need to be constantly engaged in conversation. I don't feel uncomfortable sitting quietly with somebody, enjoying their company without having to endure their conversation.
Maybe there's something wrong with the wiring in my brain that causes me to lack the need for communication with others. Maybe the people I spend time with just have too much to say. Either way, I find myself getting wound up by spending long periods of time with some people in my life. I don't blame them, (well I do at the time). It's not necessarily their fault. My family have grown up surrounded by lots of people, being taught that it's polite to make small talk and keep a conversation going.
The whole stigma surrounding "awkward silences" drives me crazy. I believe that there's a great comfort that comes from silence. The people I feel happiest with, I can sit alone with, sharing our thoughts. But most importantly, having thoughts. I struggle to comprehend how people are able to keep conversations going for hours on end. I take time to think things through. I can't come up with immediate responses to the 100 questions that are thrown in my direction during a conversation with my mother.
Don't get me wrong, I can be a grumpy cow. I snap at people when I'm tired or hungry. I'm no model citizen but nothing frustrates me more than somebody trying to spark up conversation with me when I'm trying to read. I went out to sit alone on the balcony and read my book today. My aunt appeared at the balcony door (they had been out on the balcony on the other side of the house) and asked me why I was sat on my own when they were all out having a chat. I told her I just wanted some peace and quiet to read so she decided to round everyone up and bring them out on to the balcony beside me. Peace shattered.
I think it must be quite frustrating for people who talk all the time to spend time with me. I sit in silence, without even acknowledging people as they come and go. I know it's rude. Small talk is just part of the basic manners that your parents teach you when you're little. Chew with your mouth closed, say please and thank you, never sit in silence.
I'd like to make a request to those of you who spend time with me on a regular basis. Please believe me when I say that I don't intend to be rude. I'm not ignoring you and I'm not in a bad mood. Sometimes I just need some quiet time. I don't hate you, you probably haven't done anything wrong. I dont want you to take offence to this, but I enjoy my company more than yours. There's only one person that I'd be happy to be with 24 hours a day. Just like me, he enjoys the quiet.
When he was here with me, we would float side by side in the pool, each of us reading. Together but not talking. Just being with each other. I never thought I could spend so much time exclusively with one person without them driving me up the wall. I've never enjoyed being around anyone before. I normally endure people until I can find a reason to escape. Things have changed now. Instead of dreaming of getting away from everyone to be alone, I dream of running away to him.
The boy has changed me. SOS I need help. I'm going soft. I'm a bloody marshmallow.
Being in a familiar place can be comforting. Being alone in
a familiar place can be a lot less comforting. I’ve been here countless times
in my life. This has been our home in the sun since before I can remember. I’ve
grown up surrounded by the locals. I know my way around the broad,
tourist-laden streets. I know the secrets of the village, the local traditions
and the native families that live around me. However, I’m still lonely. I’ve
discovered a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘love hurts’. I’m not heartbroken.
Quite the opposite. I’ve never been so utterly enveloped in affection for
another being. When we’re together, his needs are always my first priority. I
don’t cringe at the chronically stereotypical gender roles that we adopt. I’m
more than happy to cook and clean and do his washing as he lies on the sofa
with a beer watching sports. If I were to tell this to myself a year ago, I’m
sure I wouldn’t believe it. I’m an independent person. I rarely rely on the
kindness of others to guide me through life. I make my own luck, working hard
to get what I want without the charity of others where possible.
Bringing him to my sanctuary, the place I feel safe and
happy and at peace was a big risk. We’d never spend more than a day or two
together and I knew that ten days alone in a foreign country my stretch our
relationship. My mother had warned me that ‘you don’t really know someone until
you go on holiday with them’ and I was a little dubious that the passion that
bubbled between us would soon turn sour and we’d resent each other on day
three.
I don’t like talking about my relationship in depth on here
in fear of the future. I worry that if we do decide to go our separate ways,
either in friendship or on less pleasant terms, these thoughts may serve as a
painful reminder of what I had. What I lost. However, this is an exception. I
suppose, as an aspiring writer, I see profound emotions as deeply
inspirational. I doubt (and hope) I will ever feel the intense adrenaline rush
of being held at gunpoint or the heart wrenching sorrow of the loss of a child.
But I’ve gained a little insight into the fervent rush of affection for
another. I hope that, in the future when
I become a world-famous writer, that I can use the way I feel right now to try
and put in to words the way a woman feels when her husband goes off to battle.
Or when a girl sees the boy she dreamt of standing on the opposite train
platform from her, waving solemnly as he disappears from her.
This place that I call home, the one I dream of curled up in
my blankets on stormy winter nights has turned into what I can only describe as
a birdcage. When two love birds are together in that cage, they sing joyfully
all day, grooming each other and relishing in each other’s company. Now my
fellow love-bird is gone, and I won’t see him for almost a month, all I can do
is stick my little beak through the bars of this gorgeous, suntrap and listen
out for the sweet birdsong that tweets on so far away from me now.
