Doing this here ‘are you an introvert?’ quiz is one of the more pointless things I’ve done on the internet, and today is a day I watched a gif of a puppy running down some stairs for about 20 minutes solid.

I need a dog. Seriously.

Anyway, it was pointless because I am one of the most introverted people alive. At least when I’m not drunk or lying to make myself seem extroverted and cool like all the cool extroverts.

But, just like the accompanying Grauniad piece says – being introverted isn’t a bad thing. It isn’t a dirty word. It indicates a more contemplative, thoughtful, quiet nature – not just that you’re a loser who’s incapable of talking to people.

No, those facets of my personality come from other things, like my crippling shyness (I’m 28), my often intense self-loathing, my inability to take anything in life seriously, the fact my brain genuinely seems like it hates me (thanks for the dream last night, brain!) and a plethora of other elements.

They’re the bit that make me more of a bad thing.

No, being introverted means I am comfortable in my own company, can really focus on individual pieces of work, can express myself thoughtfully and succinctly often through my words and that I don’t have to be out there all the time getting all of the attention to be happy.

But that’s the part of me that’s always wrestling with the shit bits. The shit bits that creep up on me while I’m perfectly comfortable in my own company and remind me of things to be sad about, or angry about, or confused about, or things I should dwell on for no real reason, or how much of a waste of life I am, or how I’m never going to get out of this quagmire of debt, or how my hair looks particularly stupid right now, or how I can’t believe I missed that chance in football, or how I’m worried all the work I do isn’t up to any real standard, or how I live like a pig, or how I’m worried I’m coming across as ignorant to some people, or how I shouldn’t have wasted my money on those glasses that are a bit tight, or how I can’t believe I shrank that jumper, or how I’m always going to walk with a limp, or how I’m turning more and more back into the Forever Alone Ian of pre-2009, or how I really, really want a dog.

I need a dog. Seriously.


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