I dread people.
I abhor their foibles.
I feel forced to labor under their misconceptions of me.
I count seconds while they're talking.
I am repelled by their notions.
Being popular or the life of the party would be a sentence unendurable.
There is no measure by which I can express my preference for a cats purr over the embrace of a stranger.
People frequently interrupt my happiest moments to observe that I'm sulking.
Animated hosts who take me by the arm to "do the rounds" make me feel like Frankenstein in a black dress.
Oh, and if I have to listen to one more story about your trip to Florida with an empty drink in my hand I'm going to eat five pounds of rum balls and inhale the center piece candle light.