If you are me, then you would understand.
I don’t talk to people. They usually talk to me.
It’s not that I’m haughty, I just don’t know how to initiate a conversation. However, I can be loud and talkative with persons I’ve got along with, especially my family. And I dare to speak when it’s a matter of life and death. But most of the times I keep my mouth shut, not because I don’t have anything to share, but because I believe it wouldn’t matter. That’s just how it goes for me.
I usually walk staring at my feet, or with my earphones on. I don’t like other people’s gazes on me. I prefer to be unnoticed.
I don’t like arguments because I’ve never been good in framing up the right words. I tend to regret the words that I say. So I learned to keep things to myself. But I also tend to forget a lot of things, so those problems would just evaporate.
I prefer to do things on my own, because when I try to work with other people, I suck. And when I fail while doing it alone, I feel better for I won’t be blaming anyone else but myself.
I love writing. Because by writing I can express myself. I can let go of feelings and frustrations that I cannot — or better yet didn’t have the courage to — act on. I can build a whole new world. I am the author of my own story. I dictate how things must go. Because in reality, you can’t always choose. You’re torn between what you want to do and what you have to do. And so you have to live with the circumstances.
I am weird. And I wouldn’t explain why.
At this point, you might think that I am an introvert. Well let me tell you that I am. I never try to please anyone. I just do what I ought to do. And no matter how hard I try to fit in, I will always feel like an outcast. Because I don’t belong to anybody. I belong only to myself.
Or maybe I’m just sick. It’s the meds talking. 😟