That's not me. That is.

About an hour ago I got tears in my eyes, and was suddenly overcome by sadness. I was thinking about my dearest companion, Toby. Now don’t start thinking I’ve gone and found myself a boyfriend. No, Toby is my dog. He has been living with my Grandpa for 6 months while we were in various stages of moving, living in an apartment, and putting finishing touches (ie a back yard and a front fence) on our new house. I miss Toby desperately. He is a fluffy little hug ball, and he is the person I turn to when I don’t want to talk to anyone but I want someone to understand. Sometimes I just long to be understood.

I was talking with a relatively new but already very good friend yesterday, telling him about some problems I had with someone at work, who said something that caused me to burst into tears on the spot. Apparently, this was surprising. He was under the impression that I’m not the kind of person who bursts into tears, but rather makes a smart-arse retort, and gets on with my life without letting much affect me. I guess, to be fair, this is the side of me he’s seen. Really, this is the side of me that most people ever see. A tough exterior covering a sensitive soul, my mum says, and we all know mums are never wrong… right people?

Funnily enough though, I cry at the drop of a hat, and I’m one of THE most sensitive people I know. At times I get incredibly angry, and frustrated, and deeply, deeply depressed. I get lonely, I’m defiant, I can be hyperactive. I’ve cried for a week solid, and I’ve been high as a kite for 3 weeks straight. I get excited, I get involved, I love, I hate. I’m passionate, I’m hilarious. Oh, and I’m modest. But that’s me. I am who I am, and I don’t know if there will ever be one person in the world who understands all of that in me, but I’m not about to change for someone else.