Growing up, I was often asked whether I was the calm brooding type or the social bee (since I abhor the other winged insect used for the expression), and often pondered the matter without truly finding an answer that truly suited me.
When I was a child, I had a tendency to approach people easily, wanting to share just about anything that I came across. I’d share my experiences, my food, my toys, whatever made me happy was good enough to be distributed. However, often met with brick walls from my peers, I resumed a life less socially active, having become less inclined to interaction usually turned negative and harmful. My natural disposition thus countered, I grew up in a self-made cocoon that turned into a comfortable abode, a welcoming space that fit little more than myself. Needless to say that years later, upon trying to dismiss a long outgrown shell, I found great difficulty re-adapting to what once came so inherently; I had lost touch with the ways of the world and came off quite often as awkward. A few years later, with practice and time I became proudly master of my colours, then just as suddenly as the whim to leave my cocoon had hit me, I realized how impatient I had grown to rejoin my tiny refuge, how tiresome society felt when exposed to its rays too long; after living through both extremes I understood that I was neither so completely as I was lead to believe, I wasn’t entirely sheltered or adamantly open, I was a bit of both depending on the hour, my mood and whatever life threw at me.
I still don’t understand why such black and white questions never permit grey answers, why we are from birth encouraged to be extremists in our choices, thoughts and characters. I am a thousand shades of complexity and I refuse to adhere to just one pole of the spectrum.