I used to be a strange child.
In the summers I looked at the landscape under the scorching sun from the shadows.
In winter I read endless books about beautiful days, my feet tucked between the bed and the heater to stave off the cold. Often I was bored to tears by the longest talks between brothers and sisters on Sundays.
Spring was just a glimmer of dry cerulean sky.
Autumn was the time of the year I never step foot out due to the rain so I read, there was little else to be done.
Always secluded in a big quadrilater of green grass, closed by tall walls and a heavy iron gate. I rarely played with someone ‘cause they were no other children my age and I was forbidden to go out.
I read several hours a day, and I dreamed vivid dreams.
I never felt alone in my world.
I actually started to see other children only at five years old and my seclusion showed: I was not capable of instaurate friendships, I did not understand a inch of what the other children thought (and I came to the conclusion pretty soon that children my age did not think at all)
I was an introvert to the highest degree.
So I became an extrovert to not feel different and that’s what caused the “Tendencies to be a leader” note of the teachers in first grade. The leader was not me, but I could act pretty well the role for five hours a day.
Still I never really connected with people my age, it was a rarity to invite someone home or go play with other children.
Sometimes when someone came to my house to play I had to put a straight face and play with them but after a while I just stopped to be responsive and dismissed them to their own world, bored to death.
This cycle never really stopped I just ceased the extrovert persona at twelve when I understood there was no point in stressing.
I was different, end of story.
I loathe to have friendships now. They never did me any good or be useful in any way.
The only real delight to me is putting my thoughts on paper with the clarity of silence.
A pleasure greater than this I honestly still don’t know.