Dear Extrovert
I wonder how you function. Could you tell me why, there's such a fundamental gap, between you and I? I have to take a deep breath when walking into a room, but nothing can prepare me for what I imagine you presume. I wonder if you like me, if you think I'm rude, if you think I'm lazy or if something I said could have been misconstrued. When I don't know where I should go, or sit, or stand, or talk, I would rather cry in a corner then go on a long walk. I deeply want to be known and get to know others, but I hold myself hostage, destined to be alone and unencumbered. It's not just an awkwardness or something I decide, it's a physical reaction that I desperately hope subsides. A nagging, dragging, overwhelm that holds like a vice, that's crushing and devastating and exhausting and can't be cured with your advice. I want to be that person, that saunters around the room, full of energy and charisma and can help and function "normally". I wan