Pressure (Aug 2006)

There are a lot of people in my life who don’t know me. Some are people I used to be friends with who I haven’t kept in touch with very well. Few of them really knew me back then, since I don’t really let people into my inner sanctuary. Some are family members who either live far away or just were never allowed in. Others are people who have yet to earn passage into the depths of my mind. The funny thing is that all of these people think that they know me well enough to give me advice about what I should do at any given time.

Let me explain. I’m really more of a listener than a talker. Always have been. So, even when I’m with somebody I trust, I usually just let them talk about what is going on in their lives. It isn’t because I don’t want to tell them about me, it’s just because I don’t talk much. This means that lots of people can think that they are good friends with me or think that they know me, when really they don’t know anything. Occasionally I will give somebody just a small glimpse of something that is happening inside and generally they find it shocking, or at least it is usually something that they didn’t expect. It’s possible that people find me simple since I don’t share my thoughts on the topic of conversation. It isn’t true. I just don’t like to talk.

Well, to get to my point, I have been getting a lot of pressure from various individuals in my life who think it is a mistake for me to quit school. They like to give me advice, which usually consists of, “It would be a mistake to quit. Finish school. You only have one more year….etc.” What they don’t know is that the reasons for quitting far outweigh the reasons for continuing on. At any given moment an individual might know one or two of the twenty-plus reasons that I am leaving school and they like to make assumptions based on those one or two reasons. Don’t convict me without all of the facts. I know that this isn’t a mistake. Happiness can be found not in the number of degrees one has amassed, but in being content where you are. I’m content. Let me be happy, too.

Anyway, the odd thing about it is that, despite my distaste for talking, I find it incredibly easy to write. Perhaps it is because I don’t think anybody is reading this, but perhaps it is because I want to let people in and don’t know how. Either way it’s here if people want to see me through my eyes. If people want to get to know me, this is probably the best way. Few people will, though. I want people to know me, but I can’t say the words. I can only write them.

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