Portrait of an Introverted Mind
I feel like I am constantly peeking through a hole in a wall to check if it's safe to leave.
When I do I am winding down a pointless path to interaction that means nothing.
I often walk alone, watching people go by and I wonder what is so great about being surrounded by others.
When I am surrounded I feel more alone than I ever do when I actually am.
People are chaotic and loud,
always poking around where they don't belong.
When I let them in I feel crushed, pressured to share things I don't want or need to.
There is too much that I don't want to speak of.
So I keep them at a distance.
I keep myself in the shadows,
only illuminating the strongest parts.
The shadows are twisted, cracked and dry.
They make me feel small, daunted by their constant show of self.
I find solitude more comforting,
alone in the quite.
The mind of an introvert is a complicated landscape full of doubts, fears and an awful lot of self-awareness. It is a difficult thing to describe with words and even harder to illustrate. It takes effort for someone of this personality type to open up to anyone much less give way to the high level of vulnerability involved in bearing their soul to the world in the hopes of enlightening on lookers to what it's like to be socially awkward, socially anxious and basically a loner.
