Ode to Human Nature
MAY 7
Feeling normal is something I struggle with. Other times, I feel all too average — and somehow, both bother me equally. What I really crave is relatability.
Lately, I’ve had to check myself more than ever. I find myself questioning everything I do, measuring it against what I imagine my peers would think, as if their ability to relate to me is proof that I’m doing something right. It goes both ways. I see someone doing something I’m not, and panic sets in: instinctive, unavoidable.
I curse the way my brain is wired. Guilt hangs over me when I don’t feel like myself, when I can’t locate what sets me apart. And I still feel shame when I can’t seem to relate to what other people are doing or feeling — like indifference is its own kind of failure.
Why do I compare myself even to some I wouldn’t dare trade places with? The smallest complaint sends me spiraling: what’s wrong with me?
Why do I want to say same when what comes out is I’m sorry, that sounds…
Why do I need people to nod at something that was only ever mine?
It’s a blessing in disguise. Wanting to say same isn’t weakness. It’s empathy. The very thing that makes you hyper-aware of others is what makes you someone worth knowing.
And individual experience isn’t isolation. It’s an asset.
So I’m working on the way I react to the feeling of it. I should want to relate to my friends out of love, not insecurity. I should want to be my own person because I am worthy of space, not because I have anything left to prove.
I should hold my own experiences gently: even when they make others twist up their faces, even when they don’t travel well. Some things won’t translate. Not because they’re wrong, but because they’re mine. And my friends’ experiences are theirs, not territory I need to enter.
The face-twisting isn’t always disapproval. Sometimes it’s just someone encountering something they haven’t felt yet.
Finding myself was the lucky break hidden inside high school. What I didn’t know then was that being comfortable with the person I found would be the longer road. I’ve come a long way, but I’m always learning. And somehow, that feels like the most relatable thing of all.