While it may not be a literary gem, I absolutely love this. So many times, I feel restricted by ‘what I am’ that I forget ‘who I am’.
It’s almost a daily occurrence now. On Facebook or Twitter, in an article or mind-numbing listicle, someone is discussing the traits, burdens and/or pleasures of being an introvert. Based on the unscientific sampling of my personal feed, 90% of the narcissistic self-promoters in the world are actually meek and shy introverts.
When us loners aren’t breathlessly talking about how weird it is that we prefer books to people (haha, I’m soooo crazy!), we’re posting the results of a Briggs Myers personality test (or some generic knockoff).
“I’m totally an INFP.”
“Well, I’m an ENFJ.”
“Oh, I could definitely see that. I guess that’s because I’m an ENTP.”
“I kind of figured all of you were CUNTs.”
And when we get bored with scientific classifications that mostly mean nothing, we fall back on the original sugar pill of personality labels: The Zodiac.
What’s Your Sign?
How is it that a…
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