"I am bad at being fun." That has been my negative narrative, if you will, for quite some time. I don't party, I don't get drunk, and I'm not super social. Things like loud music or inviting someone over or laughing too hard make me anxious. Something must be wrong with me, I guess. I am also quiet. Yes, quietness is a part of who I am, and I accept that God made me more of a thinker and less of a speaker. But I'm still learning how to let go of the view that my quietness is a bad thing. The world has taught me that quiet people are boring or weird or forgettable. Some of my timidity, I'll admit, is just fear. Sometimes I squander statements because I am fearful of the response (or lack thereof) that I will receive. Sometimes I won't talk to people because of an unexplainable divide I feel between me and the rest of the world. Somehow these thoughts of being "not fun" and quiet are colliding into something my mom said to me tonight. It...