(FYI, that’s not me in the photo.)
Let me start this post with a hard truth.
I am boring.
I don’t have an interesting life story to tell, I don’t have an all-consuming passion towards anything, nor am I particularly talented.
I had a good school life, living in the shadow of my teacher mom, completely oblivious of the nefarious activities, or for that matter, any activities other than studies, that took place in the school. I was an all-out nerd. I never had parties, I read books to pass time and seldom talked to the opposite sex. If I were a half-glass-full person, I would extrapolate that I was good at studies, I won lots of prizes, and I was well-mannered. (Like that even matters!!)
Kudos to you if you have successfully reached this line without getting bored to death.
Then came college, and with it, freedom. For the first two years, I ran away from my newfound independence, afraid that it would corrupt me, convinced that my parents were always right. Then I met a girl…
(If you think that things are gonna get interesting from now on, you are wrong.)
She was the star of the college. She sang, danced, painted and even designed excellently. She was the chairman of some famous organization and regularly organized events, workshops and talks.
You get what I am saying right? She was waaaaay out of my league. But there is something fantastic about good people. They share their goodness with others. She did just that. The extrovert ‘she’ adopted the ‘introvert’ me and what happened next was history. Suffice to say that, at the end of college, I was someone worth mentioning. I was no longer the awkward friend you took with you because you had no one else. I was no longer the guy who was left out at parties. I changed. A lot.
Now I am a regular human being, having overcome all the social anxiety problems, living the ‘regular’ life.
I don’t read books now, I ‘Netflix and Chill’ instead. I don’t paint flags or trace coins now (my favourite childhood pastimes), I snap photos and post on Instagram instead. There are times when I wonder whether I turned out as good or bad.
What did the 21 years of education teach me (Other than pointless trigonometric problems and the dissection of a frog)? Am I where I want to be? Am I who I want to be?
When I was a child, I wanted to build planes, I yearned to travel the world, write my own stories, star in action movies, and become the President. When I was a child, I also believed in magic and Santa Claus and unicorns and spirits. I guess that’s what it ever was, dreams.
Ooh. And about that girl in the story. She is my girlfriend now. (There you go, the happy ending you so badly wanted.)