Like a Drifter, I was Born to Walk Alone

To quote Hercules…the one from the, critically-acclaimed (by me. Shoutout to that hot bitch, Meg, who basically shaped my entire personality growing up) movie, Hercules (1997), “Sometimes I feel like I really don’t belong here. Like I’m supposed to be some place else.”

I feel that. Never feeling like I belonged anywhere. But maybe I don’t want to?

Looking back at my childhood (again. Damn. Childhood experiences really do play an influence in shaping our beliefs about ourselves, others, and the world, don’t they?? Don’t blame me, blame science and psychology!). Like, here are two experiences, repeated over and over again throughout childhood, that helped solidify my (also critically-acclaimed) role as “outsider” on this long-running TV series called “Life” that we had no choice but to be on.

Season 1. Being the only Asian kid in my classes at school in the not-so-very ethnically diverse town in Indiana that I grew up in. Being probed, “What are you?” from the moment I could speak and provide an answer every time I met someone new. Realizing they didn’t do that to anyone else. Realizing they asked that because I wasn’t like them. Boom! You’re not like us, you don’t fit in with us! Odd one out always! And then feeling like this for the entirety of the 24 years I lived in my hometown.

Season 2. Cycling through new friends or friend groups every school year. As an adult, I’m always like, “HUH??” when someone describes one of their current friends like, “Haha yeah, we’ve been friends since we were kids!”, “Me and (their friend) grew up together!”, “I’ve known (their friend) my whole life.”

Because I’ve kept exactly zero of my friendships from school. Not because I’m a bad friend ok! But because we were never even friends! At least not to me…Perhaps I was their friend. But I didn’t consider them mine…Sorry if any of them are reading this.

But I never formed a close bond with any of them. I could never connect with them. Like, there was no chemistry! No compatibility! No connection! Maybe a droplet. One singular droplet. Compared to everyone else who had zero droplets. But for the most part, to me, they were just people I found tolerable enough to hang out with in between the gruesome 8 hours of school every day!

And the last day of school before summer break served as the expiration date for our “friendship”. And then I’d enter the next school year finding new people in my new classes to “befriend” and already-formed friend groups to join. But I was never truly a part of any of those friend groups. Just a temporary member stopping by to fulfill my needs. Ew. Not like that. If you were thinking that. But like, people to ask about which assignments were due (because this was before getting medicated for my ADHD), people to complain about said assignments with, people to partner up with for group projects, people to sit with at lunch. They were just stops along the way to help make the journey through the American school system a little less insufferable. In the nicest way possible. Thanks guys!

As I got older, I finally met people I genuinely and effortlessly connected with. But here’s the thing. All throughout life, I’ve always felt that everyone around me had already found their “permanent people”. Already solidified their main group of friends. And I was just the newbie popping in. Always the new person. Always the one who probably wouldn’t last. Always the odd one out. Always the “weird” one. Always the one who could never truly be a part of the group. Regardless of how strong our bonds become. But here’s another thing. They never did anything to make me feel this way. In fact, they welcomed me with open arms and made a conscious effort to always include me and help me feel included.

But. Despite being in the group, I still felt like an outsider. It’s like, I can form the closest connections and make all the friends I want. But at the end of the day, I’m meant to be alone. It’s almost as if being an “outsider” isn’t due to circumstances, it’s just who I am.

And now we reach that dramatic B-roll footage. That, despite being corny, overused, and soo predictable. It makes your brain go, “Aw:(“ and your heart go, “Hm:(“ as you watch it. Mostly because of the, also critically-acclaimed, song playing over it. Godly vocals and lyrics that somehow found a way to resonate with everyone who has ever existed. It makes your body go, “Ahhh” and almost feel like it’s on the brink of crying. Not actual crying. From you. But like, your body “body crying” in a “AHH I can’t it!!!” kind of way because it’s overwhelmed with feeling the rush of every single hidden and unspoken feeling you’ve ever felt in your life.

And oh, what’s that? What do you see? There I go again, me, alone, a true drifter. Walking through this world alone. On some empty road, accompanied by grass that needs a goddamn trim. Probably filmed in, what looks like, the middle of nowhere, but is probably actually some uninhabited part of New Mexico. Getting my 10k steps in (this is not a goal I strive for in real life btw) as I walk on this longass road that appears to lead nowhere. Drifting in and out of friendships, groups, detached from everything and everyone. “Here I Go Again” by Whitesnake is playing over it. And the volume is turned the fuck up when the songs gets to the “Like a drifter, I was born to walk alone” line as the scene closes out the finale of whatever season we’re on now. And then you’re like, “Wait what? That’s it?” and go on your phone to look up the title of the show followed by “ending explained.”

And I know all the co-dependent people out there are like, “Omgg that’s so sad and lonely!!” But. Plot twist! It isn’t. Like, they can’t even begin to fathom how cathartic it feels to belong to no one and nothing when they’ve, out of desperation, super-glued themselves to whatever places they’re “belonging” in or whichever people they’re “belonging” to. (Keyword: co-dependent people. Do not take this personally if you aren’t a co-dependent person. If you are, please do).

Well! As a professional independent bitch, let me give you some assurance! I love being this way. I love belonging to no one and nothing. I love being a chameleon, able to seamlessly adapt to just about any environment I’m thrown in or people I’m around. I love having full autonomy over myself. Never feeling the need to justify my decisions or opinions to anyone. Never asking for approval from anyone but myself. Never being a clingy little weirdo, because I’m so comfortable and at peace when I’m alone. Never feeling pressured to continue being the person everyone around me knows me as. Being able to move to places where I know no one, with no established or built-in relationships to count on. With full confidence that I’ll meet new people, form new friendships, find my place. Like, I’ve done it my whole life. Literally every school year. And now as an “official” adult. (Technically, because internally I’m still learning how to be one). Regardless, I’m a pro at this shit.

Oh, how freeing it feels to belong to no one and nothing!

Maybe that’s the root of my commitment issues. Because I’m already so in love with this freedom that I’m like, “Why would I want anyone or anything to take this thing I love so much from me?” And…I’ve had this freedom for so long that it almost feels like it’s a part of me.

Taking it from me would mean taking a part of me with it. And I don’t want to lose myself.

That’s why I’m so selective. Because if I allow you to take, even a bite of it, from me, you have to be worthy of it.

As snooty as it may sound, being selective is a good trait to have. It’s good to be protective of your energy. Because if you’re not, you’ll spend your whole life letting just about anyone take whatever they want from you. Little by little, so subtle that you don’t even notice. Until, one day you wake up empty. And the only thing you have left is the sudden realization that they’ve taken everything from you.

And you’re left with nothing. Nothing left to give. Nothing left to give to even yourself. And that’s sadder than however “lonely”, you were tricked into believing, belonging nowhere, to nothing, and to no one is.

Maybe I’ll never belong anywhere, to anything or anyone. But I also don’t care to. I only care to belong to myself.

And I never want to belong to anything or anyone or anywhere if that means losing myself in the process.