I am not mysterious. My friend put it this way, once: “Sierra, you are not sexy, you are goofy.” I didn’t know goofy and sexy were antonyms and I didn’t know you couldn’t be one, and not the other. Still, I suppose there is some merit to the fact that I’m just a little bit like young Sabrina Fair, whose hopes of becoming “mysterious” and “distinguished” are dashed by the fact that she WANTS to be Mysterious and Distinguished so very badly.
I am the kind of person that everyone thinks they know instantly. I am the kind of girl that makes it easy to make instant judgment calls about. Truth be told, I admittedly don’t really like other girls like me. They are bubbly. They are… usually cuter than me. They have been affirmed by life that people will appreciate their quirky, obnoxious comments, and those who don’t can sit on a pin. I judge girls like me. They are annoyingly extroverted.
Except that I am not extroverted. Did you know that I am an introvert? Sure, you may argue based on my sincere and utter craving to be the center of attention, but at the end of social hour, I frequently need time to crawl into my alone corner and retreat into the silence of my own thoughts. The only reason I am Ms. Super Pep Sierra Robinson during the fall and winter semesters is because I’ve had an entire summer shelled up in my alone bunker, recharging my social batteries and committing to put myself out there again.
One of my favorite things/biggest pet peeves: When someone says, “Sierra, I know what you’re thinking.” And then they get it totally wrong. They, like me, think they have pinned down my personality and can examine it like a butterfly mounted to the wall. Like this:
I find consolation in the fact that though people think they know me, think they can read me like a book, they often do not know my thoughts. I wear my feelings on my sleeve, it’s true. And those are often, if not always, extremely apparent. But my thoughts are vaulted in my brain that only a skilled thief (like my mother) can pry open. And I like it that way. It means I am just a little bit mysterious in my own right.
Of course, if you want to know what I am thinking, you can always just read my blog. I mean, really, I’m not that mysterious, after all.†
FYI I think goofy is sexy.
You are fully known to me, my darling. I know your sunniness and goofiness, I know all your dark places and your subversive thoughts, I know your arrogance and your insecurities–and I love you in spite of, or maybe because of it all.
Introvert : a person who tends to shrink from social contacts and to become preoccupied with their own thoughts.
Hmm you are probably right, I don't know you all that well. But the good thing about you being an introvert is that I can blame it on you.