call me bad

I’m a bit scared of myself lately. I was so desperately anticipating the end of this last quarter. Daily it felt like something crashed near me: a friendship, a paper, a computer, a bank account, a thought. BOOM. Gone. Maybe Dec. 8th would hold a clean slate. Silly, girl… of course not.

I took this totally random road trip to Las Vegas yesterday with 4 friends. I love those people. They crack me up. I was sitting there about 20 minutes in the back seat of Dan’s car, and just started to laugh. I was surrounded by 4 brilliant people. Brilliant. I’m not just talking IQs, but people with so many gifts, talents, and passions that are nothing like me. They all have learned to interact with God, who they are madly love, yet earnestly struggle with how to live out that relationship practically at times.

Introversion hits me about once every few months. I suddenly just want to be in a corner, cowering away from anyone and everyone, begging that no one look at me. Yet another irony that is Libby. I love attention, and yet hate it when I do get it. I love to speak my mind, be in front of people, blah blah blah, and yet when I have no control over what is being said about me, and when I get no opportunity for response, my cheeks blush, I fidget, and I hide. Hello, control issues!

Introversion arrived Friday. And not like “kind of” but like an ugly beast. I think it started during the end of finals, but wow, I was kind of shocked by it Friday in the car. Scared might be a better description of my experience. Too bad all that I wanted was to be at home in my bedroom in tears. Good thing we were 20 minutes into the drive when I realized it.

Instead of feeling energized being with people, or even excited for a break, I found myself angry with myself. Angry for not looking like everybody else, angry for not being smart, angry for not not not not not… reality #1 sunk in: I’m never going to be good enough for my own expectations. Ugh. Humanity slapped me in the face somewhere around Baker, CA.

I wonder why or how this happens, or why I let little things get to me (answer: stress, exhaustion, and life). I hate those moments when you’re reminded of your own personal crap. The reminder that you’re not perfect occasionally is not at all welcomed. Oh well.


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