Being the self-proclaimed weirdo has allowed me to feel indifferent to fitting in. I realized early on that I saw the world differently and often viewed what society deemed, as usual, to be fucking weird sometimes and that the idea of keeping up with the Joneses’ was something I could not relate to. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to maintain a level of decorum because I come from a place of privilege.

I grew up as a founding member of a Gay Straight Alliance in high school when I was allowed to be part of something like that. The mere fact that I grew up at a point in history and a location in the world where I could legally question concepts on gender and sexuality and go on to university without having to protest and fight my way into the classroom is a right that I am grateful for and one that I am conscious of. I have been allowed to embrace my oddness in ways that generations of women before me and queer people couldn’t.

The choice to spend time alone rather than in group settings at the risk of feeling lonelier was always preferred. I always felt fine by myself, but often found the company of others made me feel more isolated because it would highlight the feeling of being misunderstood. My mother remarked that even as an infant, I didn’t want to be held. I refused to eat until she propped my baby bottle onto a pillow and left me alone in a chair. She quickly realized that wouldn’t work, but that lone wolf energy was vital within me even at that age.

As I grew a bit older, I never socialized with the numerous other children my age who lived on my road and instead spent time alone because it was so much easier for me, and I felt happier to do so. Rather than sledding with the group of kids, I would go alone or spend time in the woods with my cat Sam, and we would explore together until I decided to walk back. He would always stay out later than me but returned every night and lived to 21 years old. I’m sure he bartered for more than his allotted nine lives because it felt like a miracle that he survived so many years going back and forth from our home to the woods, with our neighbour’s choice to poison and kill the rest of our pets.

Part of my lack of interest in pursuing people in a romantic sense stemmed from being so relentlessly bullied by boys in particular. I remember boys waiting outside my classroom pretending to ask me out as a joke, which I didn’t initially realize. Once the implications of that realization set in, I shut down on another level. I cut my hair, which might have been done subconsciously, but regardless, they stopped bothering me after that, and it felt safer to be funny, boyish, and invisible. It was a protective shield around me that got me through high school, and my crushes were so infrequent that I just never felt comfortable with really exploring that side of myself.

During my first year of university, I fell in love with a guy on my floor. I remember walking into his room by mistake and was smitten after that—to a degree that was overwhelming and unlike anything I had experienced up until that point. We both attended a campus song competition during frosh week, and he came prepared with the lyrics and motioned that I could share the page with him. I remember very few people showed up that day, and when we sat next to each other, we never conversed.

It was an odd exchange because neither of us spoke to each other. We both sang the utterly filthy lyrics of a revised Weezer song that two houses also chose to rewrite, and as the disorganized competition ended, we were told our house lost. Everyone began making their way back to our dorms, and I avoided walking around with him at all costs and chose to walk in the opposite direction until I felt the coast was clear to avoid speaking with him.

I was also terrified of bees; there were so many buzzing around us that day. He and I even joked later about how excessive they were. Eventually, our connection dissolved painfully, and I realized maybe the bees were there as a warning to avoid this connection.

Those years were tough for me, and living in residence, I expected to isolate myself from everyone ultimately, which is difficult when you share a 12×12 foot room with a stranger. It was incredibly awkward to an embarrassing degree for the first month of school, which is so cringy in hindsight.

As time passed, I became more social with everyone. I attempted in vain to appear as though I had been since the beginning of the semester, which my roommate would occasionally bring up—jokingly reminding me how that was not the case and how awkward I had been. Mind you, she had EVERY right to do so. I became closer to this guy I had quickly fallen for. We spent a lot of time together, and our mutual friends would often make jokes about me having a crush on him in group settings, which was embarrassing, but at the end of the semester, I realized the extent of my embarrassment.

I had a secret live journal account then, which was much less of a secret than I realized. I found out when I noticed my account was bookmarked on someone’s computer. It was incredibly humiliating, and I was so ashamed that no one ever mentioned it to me. Everyone read it, including the guy I liked, which made me doubt his intentions and feel confused about our friendship and his feelings for me.

Our relationship always felt like there was so much understated that we had this shared secret language only the two could speak. He slept over at my apartment most nights and would sleep on my couch. The whole situation felt like it was always on the verge of becoming more, and our relationship would eventually change into something else entirely. Still, it never did; on some level, I knew that from the start.

At the time, I cried so many wasted tears for someone who was never suitable for me. I felt so reactive to his presence, and I had such a visceral response to him that I mistook those feelings for attraction, but the reality was when he would say and do things that seemed to suggest moving towards something physical, I immediately knew I didn’t want that.

Looking back on that relationship, it made sense for me to be so infatuated with a guy who would eventually reveal he was actually in love with a man because I grew up having a lot of insecurities about so many things, and peers, family, and boys continually reminded me. Those perceived flaws were paramount in my value as an individual, human, and, most importantly, a woman.

So, looking back, it made sense why I would choose to fall in love with a person who would never commit to me because it was safer to love in secret and assume it wouldn’t work out than fall in love with someone that I could truly love and potentially end up losing them. The whole situation felt like a study in self-fulfilling prophecies because I assumed I wouldn’t find love and actively pursued a guy who would never be a healthy match for me.

We spent countless hours together learning so many important spiritual life lessons. I was actively rejecting many fucking cool people not only due to some weird loyalty to him but also because I never felt worthy of love in the first place.

It was easier for me to find inexcusable faults in the people asking me out than for them to quickly find equally inexcusable and “dump-able” offences within me. They can’t break your heart if you never let them in, so I continued living in my emotional fortress of solitude to keep love at bay and protect myself from getting hurt.

I found it so complicated losing such a significant person in my life. I wasn’t attracted to him overall because I misinterpreted my feelings since we had so much in common, and this unspoken bond between us always felt strong. When it ended, I was terrified that I would never find someone like that again because I do feel so different from most people, and it often feels more straightforward just to be alone than to engage in friendship most days.

Sometimes, life can feel very isolating, and I prefer being alone to feeling lonely at every opportunity. But there’s something beautiful about sharing experiences with another who truly sees you and helps you see the beauty in the world and within your soul.

I know that I will find the right person at some point in my life who feels like “home” rather than someone who makes me feel more isolated or perpetuates and reflects my negative ways of seeing myself back at me. Until that time, I put my faith in the universe to help me find my way to that person.