Introvert: Apparently I Do Have a Heart
Being an introvert is weird because people sometimes confuse it with not liking people.
That is not necessarily true.
We like people.
Some people.
For limited periods of time.
Under appropriate conditions.
Preferably with an exit nearby.
The problem is not humanity.
The problem is that humanity talks.
A lot.
And somehow a perfectly innocent sentence like:
“We should all hang out sometime.”
can become an actual plan.
With a date.
And a time.
And now there are expectations.
Terrible.
That is what I like about putting INTROVERT inside a heart.
A heart usually says love.
Warmth.
Connection.
Come closer.
This one says:
Yes, there is love in here.
Please do not interpret that as an invitation.
Because introversion isn’t the absence of connection.
Sometimes it is the opposite.
When you don’t want everybody, the people you do want matter more.
You can love deeply and still need silence afterward.
You can miss someone and have absolutely no desire to leave the house.
You can enjoy a party and spend the next day recovering from the horrifying experience of having spoken to twelve people.
None of these things contradict each other.
Maybe that is why the heart works.
It takes the stereotype that introverts are cold, antisocial creatures hiding in dark rooms and quietly corrects it.
We have hearts.
We have friends.
We have feelings.
We just don’t need to prove any of that by being constantly available to everyone.
Maybe being an introvert does make you more selective about who gets your time, your attention and the quieter parts of you.
But eventually, it becomes less about other people at all.
You stop wondering whether you should be more social.
More outgoing.
More interested in whatever everybody else seems so excited about doing together.
You realize there isn’t actually anything to fix.
I am an introvert.
I like my space.
I like my own company.
And I’m perfectly okay with that.
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