I have always been overly emotional. I cry when I’m angry, happy, sad, depressed, overwhelmed, etc. They called me sensitive.
I love to read and will do it everywhere. I used to read at the dinner table growing up. They called me rude.
I’ve always liked to stay by myself and while some people call it stuck up, I call it familiar. I trust me. I know me.
I hated parties then and I hate them now. Regardless if the host was a close cousin or a stranger, I would be posted up on the couch. They called me the shy sister. They still do.
I was always creative. I spent hours in my own world playing with my dolls or writing one into existence. I preferred that to playing outside with the other kids. Still do. They called me different.
I spent too much time berating myself for being so different, for feeling uncomfortable in the most mundane situations. It made me appear aloof and sulky but I was suffering silently.
So I stopped putting myself in situations where I didn’t need to be. I stopped forcing myself to attend functions just for appearances. I started living my life for me and that may make me selfish.
And I’m ok with that.
This is me. Call it whatever you want. I just want to live without apologies.
What do they call you?