life · thoughts · writing



Being an extrovert doesn’t necessarily mean that you share all of your thoughts and experiences. For the truth is, although I have become an extrovert (wasn’t always this way), I’m a very private person.

Although I’m outgoing and the least shy person that I know, I normally only share general facts about myself and my life.

For example, I don’t mind telling people that I’m number 6 of 7 children. Or that I have 2 dogs. I have a degree in Accounting.

But what I don’t share, is that I’m estranged from all of my siblings but one. That I love my two dogs more than I’ve ever loved my parents. Or that I despise accounting so much that it makes me want to slit my wrists.

Now, I understand that in polite society, these are things that you don’t easily, readily share with just anyone. But the fact is, outside of my husband and the people actually affected, no one knows these things.

I bury these, and so much more, deep inside.

Which is why I like to thing of myself as being friendly but standoffish.

But I’m tired of burying. I’m tired of hiding. And I’m tired of keeping these things to myself.

So, for better or worse, here goes. Wish me luck. I’m going to need it.


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