I’ve always been an introvert. In kindergarten, when my best pre-school friend was put in a different class I would put up a fuss until I got to spend time with her. I’ve only ever had a few friends at a time, but they’ve always been close, good, even awesome friends.
There was a random pole in the middle of my elementary school’s playground. I always thought of it as my “sad pole,” I’d hold on with one hand and walk around and around. I can’t remember now whether it was self-imposed solitude or everyone else was busy with other people.
I was given a lot of grief about being quiet, awkward, and my general lack of social tendencies for a while, but it’s something I’ve come to accept. As I’ve realized what’s going on, I’ve even come to embrace it. It’s nice to have a reason for things, isn’t it? We all like something to blame.
But now I know I’m not some sort of freak as someone tried to make me believe. I have two best friends, a boyfriend, and a social network that consists of their respective groups of friends. I’m happiest when I get to go home from work and crash on the couch with a book and I get that pleasure about 5 nights a week. But I also have those friends to reach out to when I’m ready for some company.