Mind of an introverted shy girl
It’s horror.
I’m at the barber’s shop, I need a simple haircut but the barber’s blade keeps going lower than I want it to. I’m staring at my indifferent reflection in the mirror, wondering why I look so cool while my mind is bursting up and down like a miscalculated dance step. Silently, I’m praying that my elder brother will leave his conversation and glance in my direction, even for a second.
Spoiler alert: it’s not happening.
Still, I don’t say a word; my lips are on lockdown. Believe me, I’m thinking of different ways to structure my thoughts into meaningful sentences that will convey confidence and respect.
Oops! No wayyyyy! My tongue is no longer taking orders from my brain. It remains ensnared, too stubborn to let the words out. My face is devoid of any expression – stone-cold and expressionless. Why can’t it show my hatred for this hairstyle? My brother has left his friend and is looking at my reflection in the mirror. His face is packed with all the emotions that I feel in my heart but my face is incapable of showing, but it’s too late. Too late. All my hair is gone, and I’m left with Kodo! Oproko! Yeeeeeeeeeeeee!
My heart is bleeding but I’m not crying. My brother tells the barber he shouldn’t have cut my hair this way. The barber, looking bewildered, explains that he didn’t sense any discomfort and if I didn’t like it, I should have spoken up. And here I am, just watching, utterly speechless and thinking, “How would I explain to my classmates that I’m not going to prison?”
I am outside, everyone around me is talking and laughing, easing off life’s tension. The conversation next to me is intriguing, but I think my friend is missing some points. I have something to add, but every time I open my mouth, nothing comes out. Meanwhile, someone says something very funny. My brain gets it, but whatever organ is responsible for laughing must be on strike. My lips don’t even twitch. My demeanor is robotic, I feel like Kyle XY in the first episodes of the movie where he watches everyone, unable to talk or act. The difference? I actually know my ABCs, but using them now seems as tough as reading a classical novel in Dutch.
I feel awkward about how I’m standing, should I place my two legs together or place one in front of the others? Folding my arms would make me look boring, right? Someone is saying something and it sounds hilarious. I laugh, but no one else does; they just look at me. Are they thinking I’m stupid, or am I imagining it and overthinking the situation? Humps! I’m tired already. I finally muster the courage to say something funny. I’m sure it’s funny because I have said it over and over in my mind and it ends with me laughing internally. But they don’t laugh; they just keep looking at me. I shouldn’t have come here; I would have avoided this situation. I better go home.
Someone who knows me is waving from across the room, smiling broadly. She looks genuinely happy to see me. I wave back slowly, mentally begging my brain to let me smile, but all I can manage is a slight twitch on the left side of my lips. Damn! She is looking away now. She probably thinks I’m a snob… and there goes the end of an almost friendship, all because my facial muscles decided to take the day off.
There’s this social event, it would be worth my time. I mean, meeting new people – that’s what networking is all about, right? It could be a great experience and boost my future career. But no, here I am at home covered in my blanket with my eyes solely focused on the pages of the book. Seriously! How can I leave my fictional character? They don’t even need me to talk or smile. Nope, I’ll pass on real people for now. My book friends need me more.
I’m at home, effortlessly being the life of the party. My siblings watch with delight as I send them to fits of laughter. They tilt their heads back, trying to keep the laughter in but they can’t help it. There’s a song blaring from the speaker, and I’m sing-shouting like I’m on stage at a concert. They are exhausted for the day and just want to rest, but my energy is at 100%. I’m shaking my body in the most hilarious ways, laughing and jumping around. For once, my body is actually paying attention to my brain – so much that it’s overdoing it. Now, even my brain is waving the white flag, begging for a time out.
I guess I’m an introvert, but an extrovert at home.
