This blog is meant to be about turning lamebos into rainbows – you know, empowering the masses to live a life of awesomeness and joy and joyness! And I think we make a pretty good team, boom!
But, like any normal human, I am suffering from a slight lamebo infliction that I can’t inspire my way out of.
I am a hermit.
Sometimes this can be a good thing. I can keep myself amused for hours, I’m content to be alone – yeah I’m in a relationship an happy in it, but if I were to suddenly be single I wouldn’t particularly have an issue with it. I’ve never been one to define myself by someone else.
But sometimes it can be a bad thing. A symptom of my hermitdom is a general lack of contact with people outside of my microcosm – including friends, family, and blog associates alike. Rambling Goat and the Boy are probably the only exceptions – everyone else would be lucky to get a msg from me every 6 months.
Some friends know what I’m like and don’t judge me on it, which is awesome. But others have faded away, such as is the natural progression of life.
Do I not care? Of course I care – I just exist in a different type of social world, seemingly not needing as much socialisation. But maybe that’s a LIE. Maybe I do need the socialisation, and that’s why I feel like a lamebo.
In the end, when it comes to friends I’m a strong believer in quality and not quantity. But I can’t help but feel like I must inherently be a bitch, or not a nice person, because I have friends who have “more” friends than me, are generally more personable, or hang with friends that I’m don’t like anymore.
It’s hard not to think maybe there’s something wrong with me – but I really don’t want to waste my time on people that I seriously don’t click with?
Just because I’m a weird puzzle piece that doesn’t clock with as many people as others – does that make me bad?
Sometimes I catch myself thinking these things and think, “stop being so juvenile”, but I guess it’s like womanly hormones or some crap that makes me think these things?
So there you have it – even rainbows can end up in … A pot of poop?
Moral of the story: there’s a little lamebo in all of us, but that doesn’t define who you are!