A Dirty Word

I finally know why I hate the term “introvert.”

I’ve never liked it, even though many people like me identify themselves as an introvert.

I have introverted qualities.

I don’t particularly enjoy the company of other people, usually, and I’ve always been like that.

The people I do usually enjoy are people like me, who also don’t really enjoy the company of other people. As you can imagine, mostly liking people who don’t like people while being a person who doesn’t like people can make relationships very difficult, to say the least.

I like quiet. Aside from blasting music from my stereo, I strongly prefer if almost everyone and everything was quiet all the time. Unnecessary noise is absolutely maddening to me. Perhaps this is why I hate small talk? A person making unnecessary noise is one of the most terrible things that can happen, in my opinion.

I love animals. I go to parties and immediately find the animals more interesting . I’ve told people not to take it personally, but frankly, to hell with it, the honest truth is I do prefer your dog or cat to you, most likely.

I could go on, but you get the point. But, whenever I have been called an introvert, I have to admit that I arrogantly denied the claim and laughed it off in a cynical manner.

But if you see a duck, and that duck quacks, if the duck is waddling around, waiting for you to throw the crackers on the ground, then how dare the damn duck not just accept that it is, in fact, a duck?

Because I’m not just a got damn duck.

Because I’m not just an introvert.

Because to hell with yet another label. Because to hell with me applying a label to myself. I have the rest of the world to stick labels on me.

I’m a dynamic being. I’m not shy; I’m selective with whom I choose to spend energy. I’m not quiet; I’m just genuinely not interested and I’m preserving my energy by not fawning interest.

I’m not an asshole; I’m frank. This is something that is not always appreciated.

I’m not callous; I’m apologetic when the sorry truly comes from my heart.

I’m a dynamic speaker. I’m funny. I’m a storyteller. I’m a listener. I’m engaging. I read people; I’m on the same plane as them. I am blessed with an admirable ability to coax secrets from strangers.

I’m a lot of stuff.

You’re a lot of stuff, too.

I say to hell with labeling yourself as something because as soon as you do that, you remove the possibility that you could be, and likely are, a lot of other interesting things.

You, like me, are dynamic. The dynamic nature of your humanness means you will be this and that, both now and then.

You’re awesome.

And I’m amazing.

I’m not an introvert.

I’m Nicole.

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