Making excuses.

I feel that I should be embarrassed at the number of excuses I’ve given in the past while.  Opting out of late nights with what may be a valid (or not-so-valid) reason. I enjoy being with people, I really do.

So. 
The thing is.

I used to be assured, though rarely overt and never brazen. But I knew who I was. I even liked who I was, and what a blessing that is. I was the girl who, though never lacking lunch-mate options, chose to read in the library instead of the roaring cafeteria..  To me, it was a simple matter of wanting to sneak a chat with Robin Hood over my wrap. To others it was bizarre and mystifying. I didn’t mind.

But passing months bring changes.

Now I fill out my jeans differently.  I've grown to almost like tomatoes.  Apparently I’m obsessive about the manner in which the dishwasher is loaded.  And I've somehow become terribly fond of morning workouts. (morning. As in the a.m.)  

So truthfully, I don’t care to be interested in anybody but myself right now. Because I think I'm going to like the new me. I like to think that I have a great mind, or at least an interesting mind.

And I’m so excited to get to know myself again.