I am a loner. It’s not like I was one before I started studying here, 4000 miles away from home. Before, I was an average girl; I get along with people well. People generally like me although on first impression, I might come across as intimidating and slightly serious-looking. But really, I have no problem at being with people and they with me. The community of people who migrated here from my birth country is quite large so I though I’d probably have no problem making and finding the friends I need. But before I could make many, I fell into a deep depression. It was the darkest time of my life and yet I persevered and got over it. It wasn’t easy and while I was deep in it, I began to realise something. I realised that not everyone here is worth to get to know. Not everyone here can I be called ‘friends’. While I was depressed, not many stood beside me despite the fact I never told anyone except my doctor what I was into. I was glad though. I could see clearly now. I was better off alone.

I got over my depression once I realised this fact. Well, it was quite a gradual process but when I realised that I might be better off away from the company I keep, I knew how I would climb over this wall of depression; by being alone. So I moved out of my house, chose a small granny flat far away from the university (and where everyone else is) and lived there alone. People thought I was crazy. I became pretty famous for a while due to my drastic measures. Might I act that since it’s such a close-knit community, moving out to live alone far away especially if you’re girl is pretty much unheard of.

But I was happy. For the first time ever here, I was happy. And it’s not like I completely isolated myself from people. On the contrary, once my depression phase was over, I became much more confident of who I am and how I socialize. I made lots of new friends effortlessly. But still… Still, I built my own wall against them. I let people in but never deep enough. I was scared. Scared that if I fall into something closer into depression again, people would leave me. I was scared of being betrayed, of being rejected and left behind. I didn’t want to feel that dark feelings again. So I chose to be by myself. To trust no one but me. It made me stronger in a way. When you rely on no one else but yourself, you can’t help becoming stronger in the process.

But slowly, gradually, I began letting my guard down. Not all the time, but occasionally. It took a long time, but I finally found a couple of people I really liked and really trusted. They were the kind who were always there for me, who laughed with me and at me for my lame jokes, who I could tell things I’ll only tell myself, who I could rely to. There weren’t a lot of them. One is a girl, named X, who I knew since childhood. She was my best friend as we grew up but got separated when we were teenagers. Fate has brought us here together again. I was happy, safe, comfortable with her around. She was my most trustworthy friend here.

Then, there are this group of boys who I met when we were in a theatre group for a short while. They are five of them. But there is one who I was closest with. His name is W. He was the one guy I actually really trusted. Who I could share stuffs I wouldn’t tell anyone else. He was special. I didn’t mean it in a romantic way. There was never anything like that before. But he provided me the kind of pillar I’ve always wanted. He wasn’t such a masculine guy, but that was perfect. He had the sensitivity and the open-mindedness of a female but without all the drama, the overwhelmingly emotional baggage and the poor judgement we women tend to make. He was important to me although he probably never realised it himself. The other four guys are important as well and among them is another (let’s call him Z) who I find myself getting attached to. Not because he was supportive like the first guy but because he treated me differently than the other girls. I should mention again, that my relationship with these guys were completely platonic. They confessed that they never really see me as a girl, which surprisingly made me happy. And this second guy, Z he was chatty and loud but surprisingly not so with girls. He admitted he had a problem with talking to girls. So when he talked to me, when he treated me like his best buddy, I can’t help feeling happy. I was special to him. I was different. I didn’t care if it was completely platonic, I didn’t mind the fact that I was treated this way because I was never a girl in his eyes. I was just happy that I was appreciated.

But my happiness didn’t last long.

One day, a new girl came. Let’s call her Y. She is my age but she got enrolled in university a little bit too late. I guess it’s probably that fact, or the fact that she is a naturally friendly person. Not to mention that she is extremely cute. But the next thing I knew, everyone was fawning over her. In my instagram, she appeared in almost everyone else’s instagram posts. She was popular in an instant. I wouldn’t mind that really. But what started bothering me was when she started becoming friendly to the people I mentioned before. The ones who were special to me. It was like watching a tsunami coming from far away. I could see her coming on to the girl first. My best childhood friend. How when I came to have sleepover with her, my special duvet where I always used, the spot on her bed where we used to share, was taken by her. I was jealous. I knew that but I tried hard to push it away. I knew this girl is an overly-friendly person. I convinced myself that I was selfish, I have to let this go.

But then this girl, X, started on the group of boys I knew. The boys who used to hang out with me all the time, never asked me out with them again. I thought, “okay. They’re probably busy or something” or “Did they finally see me as a girl? Are they feeling awkward now?” But then, just when I thought that was the case, pictures of them with her started popping up on their Facebook, Twitter or Instagram accounts. There weren’t exactly pictures of only them and the girl. There were occasionally other people around. But that still made me angry and jealous. I used to hang out with them all the time. How come they didn’t invite me with them. There are other people there. How come not me? I was so jealous. Jealous when she came over to W’s house on his birthday with freshly-made cake with things written on it like,”To my special friend, W”. When for the first time ever, I watched as Z talked to her as easily as he talked to me even though I’ve never seen him talk to another girl before.

It also bugs me how good she is at things I’m not. She could play music, she could sing, she could talk to people easily, she is extremely gifted in baking, she even studied the thing I’ve always wanted to study but couldn’t because I didn’t have the money. But the thing that bothered me the most wasn’t her superior abilities, but it was because even though she was nice and friendly to everyone, she was never that friendly to me. Not to that extent. I knew she probably didn’t have any ulterior motives. It was probably by chance. All of it. But I can’t help feeling angry. Angry at myself for letting myself get too attached to other people in the first place. Angry for being too emotional and letting things like friendship and relationships get in the way. Angry for being angry in the first place. Why do I have to be such a selfish and possessive person? Why can’t I just accept the fact that a person can’t be my special person and only that for the rest of our lives? Why can’t I just chill and let everyone become friends? I don’t know. I don’t know why I am so insecure. So selfish. In the end, I think it’ll all go back to basic. It was always me. There’s no one else I should rely on. No one I should trust ever. Except me myself. And that, should be enough.