Wallflower, Wallflower

I regretted it the moment I agreed. I knew how the night would end for me but I was desperate to evade the feeling of loneliness from the relationship I was in at the time. I figured anything must be better than going back to my apartment on a Saturday night to wallow in my sorrows. So when my friend asked if I wanted to go to a birthday party after our dinner plans, I reluctantly agreed.

I’ve been there before, I’ve met and partied with these people before, and yet it feels the same every time.

The moment we left the restaurant, I spent the entire time thinking, “I should leave, my presence or lack of will not make a difference at this event.”

Well, time flies when you spend it regretting your choices. The next thing I knew, we were there.

We arrive at the lobby and you can immediately feel the bass of some top 40 song throughout the foundation of their building. My friends were getting pumped as we walk to the second floor and I walked behind them, counting the seconds between the entrance and their doorstep. When we reached their front door, a note writes, “Please keep the music down. This is the last time we are asking nicely. From, your third floor neighbor.”

I took a deep breath and mentally prepped myself, “Okay, I’m already here. She promised we will leave after the cake so let’s put on a smile. Just one hour!”

The door opened and my friends were greeted with hugs and excitement. Within a minute upon arrival, they were whisked away into the crowd. I stood awkwardly by the door, receiving and sending back nods of acknowledgement to those who noticed my mere existence. I had just arrived and I already felt as if I’ve lived a few lifetimes.

My friends eventually found their way back to me with shots in their hands. God bless tequila. It’s the folding bridge between the misfits and everyone else. We gather around the kitchen island to do a couple rounds of shots before dispersing into the ocean of bodies that fills this tiny New York City apartment.

I managed to find someone to connect with for the next five minutes. I chatted with a girl who is new to this crew. As we got to know each other, I grew hopeful that the night might not be as bad as I anticipated. If no one else cared to have a conversation with me, I can at least end the night with one new friend. We talked until her friend found her and carried her off to the group she truly belonged.

Not knowing what to do now, I situated myself at the empty table in the dark corner of the room. I quietly watched the movement of moments turning into memories, wondering if I should put in more effort into molding my persona into something acceptable. If I did, if I fit myself into a box that the world can carry, how would this memory turn out?

From this distance, it’s hard to find the cracks in others. All I saw was confidence, the invulnerability that tricked the world into seeing them on their terms. The inner demon of insecurity fogged my vision of how scared these people really are. They wake up in a land that is unknown, in passages they do not understand, just like me.

I wish I came to this realization when I was playing the lead role of the wallflower at this party. I spent the rest of my time at the table, with my friends occasionally coming to check on me but I was mostly by myself. I left the party alone and enervated. I longed deeply to be more than who I am but I now know that who I am is enough.

I’ve worn all the right masks, tried on all the right labels, but the box is getting too cramped and slowly breaking apart. Perhaps it’s time to unpack, allow the identities blur to nothing, so the details of who we are can sharpen and maybe then, we will be able to absorb the world as it is.