Am I suddenly phosphorescent? Did someone put a “Look at me!” sign on my back when I wasn’t looking?
Some days I feel as if I could walk through life without anyone saying hello or taking notice. During those times I feel like an awkward 12-year-old version of myself caught inside my 24-year-old body. She’s clumsy, plain, and is sure that no one cares for her as much as she wishes they would.
Much to my satisfaction, it seems the 12-year-old Julia has gone on vacation to some exotic location filled with boys from Tiger Beat. The last few days have been so delightfully filled with conversation, random encounters, emails, and messages that the dam of apparent isolation has cracked open. I feel as if I’m not invisible, not shy or held back. I’ve remembered what it feels like to be an extrovert in her element. It may seem trivial to some, but when you’ve gotten so used to the desert, you forget what it’s like to have water until it swirls inside your mouth and cleanses your parched throat. You can feel its heavy relief sink into the bottom of your stomach. Ah, to be oneself again.