So I haven’t posted anything in a while… But I thought I might do a quick one, just because I feel like I need a short escape from my daily responsibilities by doing something that isn’t completely the opposite either. And writing sounds like a good fit, doesn’t it?
Also, I realized that I haven’t really posted much about the actual regular days I’m going through on daily basis here in Edmonton. I think I did a couple, months ago, but I took them down some time ago (hehe) because of one and two things that got me thinking that I probably shouldn’t be that transparent even though the subjects related to those posts are most likely not and never going to read those posts either. But, anyways, I chose the safest path eventually, and I’m going to start fresh by assuming that you readers (if any; see I have a real self-esteem issue here) have no idea which posts I was referring to.
I might be wrong, but, probably not 100% wrong either, that people who know me or at least follow me on Instagram or are friends with me on Facebook might assume that my life in Canada is totally fine. Picture-perfect travel photos, me seeming utterly happy conquering corners of the world that not so many people in my circle have been in before, me hanging out with a bunch of multicultural fellas from different parts of the globe, et cetera.
If you happen to be one of those people who assume that, thank you. Appreciate the positive thoughts. But honestly, to be quite frank; my life isn’t as well-curated as those pictures in real life. In fact, it’s almost the exact opposite.
And that’s one more reason to convince you that you should never judge someone’s actual life from their social media life. Though if we’re connected on Twitter, you might see that I complain and whine big time too and that might just be the more well-represented version of my universe. Anyway, the point is, people do not have any idea how difficult everything has been, especially starting from the beginning 2017. People have no clues about those nights of panic attacks, those days where I woke up not feeling any better from last night’s nightmare, and those times in-between where I just wanted to fast forward to the bedtime, because that’s the only chance where I might have a shot to get happy: where I might be able to meet the people that I am missing a lot, through my dreams. Pathetic, isn’t it?
But it’s true. And I want to admit it. And homesickness, as well as the yearnings for the opportunities to meet the people who once shaped my world into a happier place to live in, are not even the only challenges I have to fight on daily basis. As if they’re not daunting enough, I somehow have to face another real issue: the feeling of being entirely misplaced, the whole time. Like, no matter where I go, no matter what circles I try to fit myself in, no matter whom I try to talk to and connect with; it always ends up with me realizing how different I am with nearly every soul I have met in this city, and how irritating it feels to see that I might not have a good enough shot to actually get comfortable and be friends with those individuals.
And the worst part is when inevitably, these questions arise: do I just socially suck? This much? Am I just incapable of engaging with human beings? Have I lost all my abilities to have a connection with people? Will I ever succeed in making friends anymore? I mean, one and a half year and I’m still on the hunt for just one individual who would really be a person I could fully trust… Isn’t that unnatural?
Full disclaimer, I am not entirely having no friends at all. I volunteer regularly to force myself to meet people, and I still have (a small number of) friends that I still chit-chat to, hang out with, and stuff, but to be quite frank (and I do wish they don’t read this post right now, otherwise if they do and get offended and I lose them all I’d be totally doomed): something’s lacking. Like the comfort of being under my favorite skin, the one I always wore back when I was still in Indonesia and chilling with my peeps. Like the feeling of totally belong in somebody else’s atmosphere. Or even the freedom of being the best version of yourself. Because somehow, I never truly felt that I am the best version of myself when I’m around any of these people in this city.
I could totally blame myself being an INFJ (which happens to be the rarest personality type in the entire world, making up less than 1% of the total population of world citizens apparently) as one of the reasons I feel all these sorts of desolation, with the possible fact that people might not be able to fully comprehend me and my complexly annoying trains of thoughts; especially with the Introvert element that surely plays a huge role whenever I try to establish a new relation. But maybe… that’s just a lame excuse for my actually lame personality? I don’t know. Is being here actually a way to open my eyes to how ugly my personality has been all these times, and now I get the consequences? Hey, God, you hearing?
I do not know. And I do not know what to do either. I really wish I were a person with just a much higher amount of confidence so I could easily build conversations with people, and avoid people from being socially awkward when trying to engage with me. Dear Edmonton citizens, I wish I were a better soul who could fit your universe. I wish I could say I feel like home being here. I wish I were capable of accepting and acting towards the nice gestures of some of you people who seemed to really give some effort to be nice with me–even though it often ended up with us being awkward, mostly due to my inherent and apparent lack of self-esteem. I wish I would miss you when I leave.
Hey readers, if you reach this point, would you mind sending some thoughtful comments to me below or shoot me a message by means of any of these, to make my day a little easier today? Every thought counts, because I am desperately in need of a shot of motivation to keep going right now. If you decide to do, I’d be more than grateful. You’re the gem of the year. Thank you.