That is the title that I would give myself to best portray who I am to a total stranger. I wander everywhere I go. Where some people live in the moment and others from day to day, I simply live – not in the short term and not in the long term. I wander in the way that I walk, in the way that I explore new places, almost as if I am lost but profoundly enjoy the feeling. I wander in thought so much that I would say I do enough thinking for three people, let alone for any one normal person’s brain. I’ve wandered to every destination in my life while others ran, walked, or moved with some sort of purpose. I’ve wandered to places in my mind that I only dream of going in the real world, and I’ve done it so much that the lines between worlds have become a little blurred; I still know what is real and what I wish to be real for I am not delusional, but I believe my mental wandering has had some very real psychological effects on my being.

I’m the wallflower that has never taken charge of his being. I’m the one who sees everything and knows everything but does not speak, reserving my knowledge and conversation for those select few I can call my friends and invite to my home. I’ve been the social butterfly for most of my life, fluttering between social groups and never really finding a permanent place in any one of them. Many people would say they know of me, but very few would be able to say they know me. There are not many who I have been able to bond with in all of my years thus far. I’m one of those people who break out of their shell pretty late, having had a rather tough cocoon to break out of. I’m the one who feels so out of place in this enormous world, and feels that I am alone in a sea of people who do not understand me.

I’m so different from everyone else, so very unique, or so I like to think. And yet I’ve come to realize in recent years that I am not alone in the way that I feel. As part of what I like to think of my coming out of my shell I begin to acknowledge that every single person is different in their own ways. I begin to think more about how two people can be so perfect for each other and yet have things they will never find out about each other, or interests they will never share, that they do not need to share these interests to get along or understand each other as a whole, that you do not need to understand everything about someone to be their friend or their significant other. I begin to realize that everyone has battles they fight, those within and those of another nature. I like to think that within a year or two the people who once met me will hardly be able to recognize me. I’ve woken up from my inattentive wandering through life by way of dreaming and not taking charge of things, and I refuse to sit and let more time pass me by.

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