When I first got to site I remember telling my parents just how disgustingly desperate I was for them to like me. And that’s the hardest kind of person to like. A spineless, personality-shape-shifter. The kind that nods in agreement, no matter what, hiding behind an embarrassing grin, Please like me. I was that. But I’m over that now. And really, it wasn’t just to try to make a community of strangers care about me in the most basic or limited way, but it was because I didn’t really know myself here.

I had to do a little archeology work. Dust away here and there to uncover myself better than I had before. A routine allows us to cope with even the worst of circumstances (I read that somewhere) and I agree that habits are a good thing. A life-saving mechanism, even. But they also allow for dust to settle over our bones. Who we are gets buried and we more or less see the shape of it but in time we get smoothed over, dulled, slow. It takes little bolts of lightning that jolt you out, or pierce their way through to you.

I don’t agree with everything! Realizing that I might not like or might not trust the person I’m interacting with and acting accordingly. These are basic human things, but I’ve had to relearn them, consciously. So I guess I’ll put that as a win. Even though the two-dimensional Laura was more agreeable, she was also dreadfully dull.

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