I used to be really conscious of the fact that I was single. After ending an incredibly dysfunctional relationship that had existed for years, I didn't know how to be alone. I didn't want to feel lonely and I was sure that a relationship would cure me of those blues.
It was a blow to me when guys wanted to be "just friends" and weren't interested in a romantic relationship beyond hooking up. (To be clear, if you want to be "just friends" that means we don't make out, k?) I spent a lot of time and energy on the wrong guys, the "just friends" guys.
Recently, the "just friends" things happened again ... but it was different. In the past I would feel rejected. I would allow myself to doubt who I was. I would consider changing the way I spoke, or acted, or dressed. I would run myself in circles wondering what I would have to do to make myself the right person for them.
This time, that didn't happen. It didn't sting like it had before. Yes, I did get a bit pissed off (seriously, friend zoned again? Wtf.) but it was related to the massive amount of mixed messages within that situation as opposed to it being tied to my self worth. "Oh, you want to be just friends? Great. Wait, why are you kissing me? I don't think that word means what you think it means."
It was different this time because for the first time in my life I am okay with being by myself. I feel solid in who I am. I am smart and articulate. My moral compass is calibrated. I have massive goals and intricate visions. I meditate and sing loud and dance (even if people are watching). I act like a fool. I embrace my emotions and allow myself to be caring and compassionate. I am exactly who I want to be at any given moment. I am not afraid to start a meaningful conversation and I'm not afraid to end one that doesn't feed my soul. I make decisions on the fly and I make myself happy.
I won't compromise my values, I won't dumb myself down, and I certainly won't be any less feisty so that others are not intimidated by me. Being anyone but myself would be a huge disservice to every experience that has made me who I am.
And here's something I never thought would be possible: I enjoy being single. What? You heard me. I like spending time doing exactly what I want, when I want, with who I want. I rarely get bored when I'm chillin' with me.
That makes it a hell of a lot easier to wait for the right person to come around. The "right" person? I don't know their name or what they look like but I do know that they will be entirely themselves, too. They will have goals and visions and they will not compromise who they are to please anyone but themselves. When we come together it will be to compliment the other, not to depend on each other. We will be two separate people in a partnership based on acceptance, unconditional love, and growth. A friend of mine uses the term "Ideal Spiritual Life Partner," which I thought was super cheesy at first, but really, why not? Why settle for anything less.
My only selfish hope for that situation is that they have a beard. I can't help it, I fucking love beards.
So, until that "right" person comes my way, I am my own right person. My gardens are planted and my soul is decorated.
I love myself, by myself, for myself.
Note: Sunflowers are my favorite.
I haven't posted in a while. It's not because I'm not writing. I write every day. It's because I'm afraid to post here. I'm afraid to let Real Life Mikayla speak where Kindness Bus Mikayla reigns. I am hyper conscious of what I publish and it has created a massive divide in what I deem kindnessmiles worthy. I'm afraid of sharing things that aren't pleasant, polished, and perfect. I'm afraid to be authentic. I'm afraid to share my inherent vulgarity because, let's face it, I say "fuck." A lot. (Thanks Mom.)
When I think about sharing my unfiltered thoughts on the interwebs I get a little bit nauseous. Sometimes its the "OMG maybe someone will love my brainthinks and want to be Best Fucking Friends Forever" kind of nausea but oftentimes it's the "I don't want to be called weird for the twelve-hundredth time in my life" kind of nausea.
But I feel compelled to do it because I want an outlet, a way to share, and a way to let my words out of my fingertips and into the ether.
Countless times throughout my life I have found solace in the recorded words of others. In books, in magazines, online, and on the back of bathroom stall doors. I have had moments of connection through single words and simple phrases. I've copied hundreds of beautiful paragraphs into shitty notebooks. I've read entire books out loud to fill the space around me with their dimensions.
Even greater than my love for soaking up the written creations of others is my love for creating my own. I love to write. Whether it's single word doodles on the corner of the morning paper, elaborate love letters penned between fictional characters, a haiku about being stuck in the airport, or an entire novel made of mayhem and magic ... whether or not I keep it or share it, I love it most.
So if by doing this I risk being called weird for the twelve-hundredth time ... than fuck it.
Seriously, fuck it.
I am weird.