It took me a long time to figure out who I was. I’m still learning, but at least I kind of have a basic idea.
And as a word to the wise, if you’re going to talk about someone in the next apartment, closing the window might be a good idea.
Hey, I KNOW I’m awkward. I’ll admit it any day of the week. But to have someone else tell me what or who I am when they don’t even know me is a little much. Especially since I’ve been trying hard to make some new friends (not that easy when everyone is shy) and my self-esteem hasn’t exactly been skyrocketing lately.
A year or two ago, what they said would have made me depressed for a week. Face it, writers are usually very sensitive people. It’s how we can see the world and put it down on paper. This time, it bothered me for about ten minutes. Enough that I complained to some family members for a while, and then got over it.
Yes. I’m awkward. And I know I am.
But I know myself enough that I am okay with it. Anyone who really cares that much about it? Well, it’s their problem. Not mine.
How do you deal with other people gossiping about you? Does it bother you? Or have you figured out a way to not let it get under your skin?
♪ Big Tree – Big Tree – Little Brother ♪