Zen And The Perks Of Motorcycle Maintenance

Two coworkers were chatting about their motorcycles, and after some time one of them turned the conversation towards me.

"We should get Zeri to join our bike gang," he said.

"Unlikely," I muttered, looking over.

"Think about it," he said. "If you had a bike, you wouldn't have to talk with anyone."

While the other coworker contradicted him, saying that his own helmet has a microphone inside, I pondered; eventually, I said, "That is an interesting selling point."

And then I made a mental note to join conversations at work a little more frequently, if only to avoid ones like this.

 

Bursting Inside

Rarely am I as boisterous as those around me. I decline to take front stage unless there's a need for it. For a long time I worried that my lack of boisterousness was interpreted as a lack of enthusiasm, or -- worse -- as a lack of conviction, as if I couldn't truly mean it without saying it loudly. But I am enthusiastic... in my own quiet way. When I'm bursting with joy, a warmth fills my chest, my face radiates, I tense up with excited energy, and I'm often paralyzed by the enormity of my feelings. It doesn't need to burst from my mouth in order for it to erupt from within me. I don't need to voice it in order to be certain that it's there.

I realize, of course, that there's something to be said about expressing myself to others, that it's a good thing. It doesn't need to be boisterous, though: it just needs to be true.

 

Knowing What It Means

Everyone is different; yet, some are more keenly aware of it. Some are treated differently. Because you know what that's like, you have a responsibility to those who are also different. You owe it to them to be as understanding as you can be. Even though you may not have always received the same understanding, you know that we all deserve it.

And no matter how much you learn about the traits that make you like others, you're always going to be your own kind of person. You're going to be different even from those who are most like you. Realizing that you weren't alone, and that you weren't the only one going through such things, was just a tiny part of accepting that it's okay to be you. It was always okay.

Others might not understand your differences, but I think it's important that they also accept them along with you. Especially the ones that matter: the ones that you choose to care about. They, too, should know what it means.

 

Not Cowed With Fear

To no one in particular:

You may think that I'm weak because I'm so often voiceless; or that I cower when I fail to make myself known; or that I'm timid while you wait for me to choose my words; or that I lack confidence because I keep to myself.

But it's not fear that holds me back. It's not fear that often keeps me away from you and others. And it's not fear that makes me the way that I am. I'm not afraid to be more like you; I simply have no desire to be something that I'm not.

I don't need to learn to be more loud, or more outspoken, or more visible. I don't need to become more sure of myself. What I need, if anything, is to stop allowing my personality to be questioned so much. I need, perhaps, to be more proud of who I am.

I'm not afraid to be myself, and I don't need to change. It's not fear that you see in me. It's just me.

This is how I am.

Get used to it.