...........

I'm not having a good day. If you couldn't already tell. And no, it's not because all my friends are out partying for new year's eve while I'm sitting updating my blog. Well, okay, it is because of that. But not the way you think.

You see, all my friends are partying. But here. At my house. And I'm locked in my room, updating my blog. 

Do I have any real, rational reason for this?

No.

It's not like my ex is here (because I don't have an ex) or because someone recently died and I'm sad or because my mortal enemy is outside my door. In fact, I like all of the people that are here currently. So ... why? 

That is the question. I guess my blogging is kind of trying to find the answer. 

I'm an introvert, first of all. Not a huge surprise, I'm sure, but it had to be said. I don't feel comfortable in large groups. I feel decidedly uncomfortable, in fact. Just the thought of leaving the quiet confines of my room to go and socialize with that many people fills me with dread.

I wish desperately that I could be a social butterfly, working the room, comfortable, laughing, smiling, talking and having people listening. But that's not who I am and if I ever am like that, it will never be me, just another facade. Another mask I can put on. 

One wonders what they must think of me. Do they think I'm sick? Sad? They must assume something's wrong. But that's probably better than them knowing the truth, which is that this is the way I am normally. That my own company is far more pleasurable for me than all of them. That being in that room is a version of my own personal hell. Because that would be really insulting. 

I wonder what it is inside us that makes one person revel in being with a large group of people and others of us recoil. Evolution? Perhaps at one time, seeking out large groups and/or getting people to enjoy your company was vital to survival, but over time certain mutation—like me—have occurred.

And it's also not like I can't be in social situations. I'm really sensitive when it comes to social situations and can generally read things quite well. I can be social. It's just so damn hard. And for what? I honestly don't give a crap whether most of those people like me or not. And the people who do care won't stop liking me because I don't spend an evening with them.

The only interesting variable is my mother, who doesn't like the idea of me becoming a hermit.

But the thing is, I'm not a hermit. I love spending time with people—as long as it's two or three at a time. More than that, and well, a) you don't get to know the real them and b) it's noisy and annoying and loud as hell and c) a contest to see who can talk and get people to listen to them. C) seems like it wouldn't be true when everyone already knows each other well, but it's always a freaking contest.

How do people enjoy that???

See, I don't even have to be in school to have drama in my life. I just create it myself, I guess. 

I need D. to be antisocial with, darn it! But of course she's not here. And probably when she gets here she'll want to socialize and have a great time and I'm getting bitter so I should just stop.

Hermitry (is that a word?) is beginning to sound more and more appealing.

Maybe I should just develop a crappy personality so I'd hate to be left alone in my own company. Or, more probable, I already have one but it's only obvious to everyone except me. 

I have to go, mom calls ... so tell me if any of you also suffer from the same condition.

~Angel