You know when I do the thing that I promise to write about something and then I don't? Well, yeah, as if someone was really looking forward to hearing about my tea collection. But anyway.
Okay, I am going to tell you about the most recent finished photography project that I was extremely excited about when I get the pictures on a digital form. That will happen, I guarantee.
But now I would like to offer you some introspection because it's 1:15 and I'm supposed to be sleeping.
I don't really enjoy thinking about what I was doing a year ago as there are things that kind of hurt when touched upon. However looking back with a load of hindsight is one of the annoying things that I find myself doing quite often. So yeah, I don't recall now what exactly I have been babbling over here but I was in a situation where I didn't have a job, I'd finished my upper secondary education and there was no certainty of a place in university for the following year. I had awfully little to do, which in a long run drove me near the brink of falling into depression - I felt utterly useless, unworthy and wasteful (which I still do sometimes, just not in the same scale as then), and I really had to push myself to not spend days staring at walls. Emotionally I was a mess, and the only thing that gave me at least some feel of safety and tangibility was clinging on people that I felt comfortable with and that I trusted.
Back then being alone was the worst of the curses since being alone always meant silence, and nothing was scarier than being alone in silence with my thoughts. Having a company was a way to escape that terrifying experience of nothingness and emptiness that used to haunt me from time to time.
I've always been pretty into psychology. Especially personality and all kinds of theories around it fascinate me to certain lengths: I love completing the kind of personality tests you come across in the wonderful world of Internet even though I realise how narrow their calculated results are. Nevertheless, the bipolar division into extroverts and introverts is continuously something thought-provoking for me. My former psychology teacher gave a rather simplistic but in my opinion very enlightening description for extroverts and introverts. Basically she just explained that for extroverted people socialising and being around other living human beings is an energising and empowering experience, whereas introverts gain strength and "refuel" by spending time in solitude. Obviously between two extremities there's a whole prism of other colours thus labeling anyone either extroverted or introverted is much less simple than one might think.
I've never been able to sort myself out in terms of this system. On one side I really love hanging out with my friends and spending hours and hours talking with them, I also like the idea of having a someone, with whom to share one's everyday life and to whom to turn when feeling blue - because I don't think it would be good for me to live alone. On the other hand though, I dislike being thrown in the middle of people I don't know properly, I don't enjoy parties too much (unless tea and cupcakes are involved) and I am socially awkward in general. I guess I've always been a little more introvert than an extrovert but quite near the middle point of the two.
Of course human consciousness and intelligent existence and everything is loads and loads more complex than the flat introvert-extrovert dichotomy (a fancy word that I learned when writing an essay during Christmas holiday) but for some reason I find it a crucial question for at least myself - and to be honest, it really helps to understand and emphatise other people whose heads may have been programmed in a slightly different way than yours.
But my great introspection then.
As I said, around this time last year I seemed to be ridiculously dependent on other people - well, I didn't seem, I was. Now a life-altering plot-twist: seems that at this point, I'm not as socially dependent any more. How did I come to this exclusive conclusion?
Just today after approximately five hours in the university library I went back home and spent also the rest of the evening alone without feeling any kind of uneasiness or anxiety about my own existence. And it's not just a one-shot occurrence these days, it appears, but I'm actually starting to get by without constant company without falling apart every other day.
I think that this is quite marvellous.
Although I do fall apart every other week minimum, so there we go.
And I do need at least a little human interaction daily.
But I'm still doing far better than I thought I would at this point of time and space.
You see, I sincerely believed that I was going to be a pathetic codependent idiot for the rest of my life, which I probably will but on a smaller scale.