(this writing is basically a diary entry <3)

I stared off into the abyss, or more so the sticky floor of this house party. My ability to socialize drained away hours ago, so I’m alone again.

It seems that people only want me when I’m functioning correctly. Like a product. Like a toy. People never want the imperfect versions of each other, even though we all have them. Did I mention I get extremely philosophical when I can’t voice my thoughts?

My social battery is a finicky little thing. Some days, it’ll take hours for me to rather want to dive headfirst off a cliff than finish a conversation. Others, I drain in an hour or, on extremely “bad” days, in thirty minutes.

Sometimes, I feel as though I’ll die if I have to be social for a minute longer, but, others, I feel as though I’ve got a million things to say, and a million minutes to say them. Being an introvert is, to put it poetically, the worst time of your life.

Yours truly,

the Introvert