I feel so out of touch with people. Honestly, bonding is a concept that has eluded me for years. Growing up, I always secretly wondered if I was genuinely socially retarded. (In fact, I still do sometimes, but only to humor myself now.)

See, I didn’t really have friends in elementary school. I moved to the United States when I was 6 years old. The only English word I knew then was “dog.” (I learned “cat” a couple of months later, I think.) And I couldn’t even pronounce it right. And it’s pretty hard to get friends at that age if you can’t even keep somebody’s attention.

I suppose it was quite hard on my mom too, she didn’t have any friends either. In fact, I have no idea what she preoccupied herself with in those days before she had a job and I was at school. We learned to lean on each other.

Anyway, a lot of unpleasant things happened after I moved to the US, and while I don’t blame those reasons for everything that is wrong with my life, they affected me very negatively–inverted my personality, if you will. I became very shy, very cautious, and very self-conscious as I grew up.

Our family didn’t have any play-dates, and during recess I would busy myself at the tetherball pole. I would always buy my lunch and sit with the other kids, but only to sit with them. I was the wallflower…that wore immigrant clothes. (“Why wouldn’t you want to wear these clothes? They’re top quality, and cost so much in China! The American kids at school will never get the chance to wear something like this!”) And at home, of course, there was nobody else around–Mom had enrolled herself in beauty school. I was alone every day; I learned to entertain myself.

I think that fostered a lot of my traits. I learned to like being alone, and to this day I still do–being around people for an extended period of time still tires me out. By myself, I could be myself. I could sing as loud as I wanted, I could cry at cheesy lines in movies, I could walk around and not worry about how big the slits of my eyes are right then and there, and I could dream. (And dream did I ever! I was the hopeless romantic. Too much time alone and your mind starts creating hallucinations on its own.) I learned to be individual, and to like what I like and not be influenced by what other people think I should like. (My favorite music artist in junior high? Tori Amos.) But I also learned to appreciate friendship and togetherness because I so rarely felt it. I loved watching Friends because in a really twisted and pathetic way, I didn’t have any and they relieved me of my loneliness. And I still like romantic comedies the best–but for other reasons now.

There’s lots of bad things that came with the solitude: I was very out of touch with my contemporaries–and walking around with dyed bangs and a tweed jacket sure didn’t alleviate me from my condition–which brings me to my current déjà vu. I’ve always found it so difficult to really get to know a person. In fact, I downright dread it when people ask me, “So, what do you like to do?” Well, I like singing, learning languages, trying new foods and drinks, and having the occasional frolick with men twice my age. What about you? Sports, chicks, video-games, cars? Cool!

I’m going to do a little thought-trainhopping now by asking this: Have you ever wondered what exactly keeps people together? I’m sure you’re friends with your friends for different reasons: similar interests, similar experiences, or maybe just because you live close to each other. It’s kind of scary to think about how fragile a relationship can be. Sometimes, I feel like it’s not enough.

Well, if you read this far, congratulations. I don’t think I had a point in writing this post other than to just get some personal history out. I don’t remember when it became so much harder to express myself. Blogging much easier back in junior high. I was angsty then. Now I’m just humdrummy and–well, as of right now–in dire lack of sleep.