I hide a lot.
It seems, these days, all I do is hide.
Behind texts, smiles, laughter, silence, and in between lines, the sheets, and the changing of days. It has been a while since I have answered a sincere Yes or No to requests, questions, or statements. I meander between a coy maybe – sometimes I give lengthy answers to hide my reluctance or a curt reply to hide my excitement. I daresay I have mellowed with age. I am no longer as fiery or temperamental. Instead, I shrink-wrap them with control and anal-retentiveness. People I meet deem me mellow. Calm. Grounded. Perhaps I am all of that, but I know I am also more. And yet, I hide.
My reversion to my 10 years old self is jarring. I grow silent. I am rediscovering the worlds in pages, the light joy in solitude, and the happiness of being on my own.
All in all, the search to find meaning and discovering who I am continue – I am nowhere near, but at the very least, I find myself moving (and that, is all and everything I could ask for.)