Extroverts, Please: Shut Your Face-Hole

The world has this cute little hobby: pathologizing introverts. Apparently, my silence is a symptom, my solitude is a disease, and my refusal to play small-talk hopscotch in a fluorescent conference room is a character flaw. Society pats my head and says, “Just get out more! Make friends! Network! Smile, damn you!”

But funny—no one ever dares say the obvious to extroverts: shut the f*** up already.

🚨 PSA: Extroverts, You’re Endangering Humanity 🚨

Attention loud humans: this is not a drill. Your unrelenting commentary, unsolicited advice, and constant social vibrations are officially classified as a public hazard. Please listen carefully, and try to survive the 2 minutes of reading without narrating it aloud.

Step 1: Admit you are a caffeinated foghorn. You think chatter is a personality trait. Newsflash: it’s a crime against peace.

Step 2: Understand quiet exists. It’s that thing introverts do to avoid ripping out their own ears. Try it. You might like it. Or not. We don’t care.

Step 3: Reduce verbal emissions. Your “fun fact” about literally anything is not required. Silence is underrated.

Step 4: Social distancing for your mouth. We don’t mean six feet—it’s your opinions that need isolation. Quarantine them.

Step 5: Observe humans in their natural state. Introverts can sit in silence without dying. You? Not so much. Learn from them.

Step 6: Reduce public speaking events. Meetings, brunches, casual “let me tell you everything” phone calls—cancel all. Let the world rebuild.

Step 7: Avoid noise pollution. Every loud laugh, every anecdote, every unsolicited story—think of it as a verbal nuclear blast. Reduce exposure.

Step 8: Apologize to everyone in advance. Yes—the cat, the barista, your coworkers—everyone has suffered from your commentary. Own it. Quietly.

Step 9: Embrace interpretive silence. Communicate with raised eyebrows, small gestures, or telepathy if available.

Step 10: Remember your purpose. Not every thought needs a megaphone. Your mission: let introverts exist without permanent tinnitus. Failure is loud, literal, and annoying.

Congratulations, extroverts. You may now rejoin society in limited doses. Proceed with caution.

Introverts get treated like broken robots who need rewiring. Meanwhile, extroverts parade around like malfunctioning sirens, mistaking noise for personality. Spoiler: volume is not a virtue. Sometimes you’re less “life of the party” and more “mosquito buzzing in a locked car at 2 a.m.”

So here’s my radical proposal: extroverts should experience forced quarantine—not for medical reasons, just for mercy. Lock the door, throw them some coloring books, and let the rest of us bask in the rare, endangered species known as peace and quiet.

Because newsflash: introverts aren’t broken. We don’t need fixing. Extroverts need muzzles.