You can celebrate being an introvert. You can romanticize being an introvert, even. You love your sea of books and being alone in general. All that does not faze you, you say, because you love your own company.
But that's easy to say if you don't spend most of your time alone.
That's easy to say if you often meet with friends. That's easy to see if you have friends who often want to meet with you. That's easy to say if you're the one receiving invitations rather than making them, knowing fully well that you will always be turned down.
Easy to say if you see your alone time as a respite from everything, rather than the thing that's hounding you.
Easy to say if you, even subconsciously, believe that people see you as this social butterfly and you have to prove to everyone else that, really, you're a well-balanced person and you also read your books and listen to your music and write thoughts on your well-traveled journal.
Imagine sitting alone in your room, watching all the conversations you are never part of whiz by. Try drowning all that out with a book. You cannot. You cannot do that at all.
Consider yourself lucky you're not really alone, and you're just pretending to be awkward around everybody so you can look better.
1/15/2017
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Niko Batallones writes The Upper Blog.
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