There’s nothing wrong with being an introvert. I’m as outgoing as I feel like being. I don’t particularly need you to come over and sweep me off my feet out into the world to do things. I do plenty of things, dammit. I do things on my own terms.
Surprise parties are absolutely my worst nightmare.
If I’m going to do something, I need it to be planned out. No, “Hey, you want to go camping this afternoon?” type plans for me, thanks.
You have to really know me well in order to know me. I’m like a kinder egg, except instead of chocolate, it’s barbed wire. Instead of toys inside, it’s secrets. Alright, maybe I’m not like a kinder egg.
If I’m not paying a lot of attention to you, please don’t come at me with intensity. Generally speaking, I spend as much time with someone as I want to. So if we’re chatting up a storm, great! But if I walk away, don’t follow me.
God no please don’t be upset if I don’t want to go to that college party with a bunch of people I don’t know. That’s my worst nightmare.
Okay, I stayed in my house for a week and didn’t talk to anyone. I didn’t visit any of the normal bars. I did my own thing. That doesn’t mean I’m depressed. I’m independent. I may be coming off a lot of socialization. It’s okay.
That’s how highly I think of you. I don’t give people the label “best friend” easily.
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