Being an Introvert in a World of Extroverts


It can often be tiring to be an introverted person in this world that favors extroverts.

There are times wherein people doubt your intelligence just because you don’t speak up too often about your ideas… like that time back when you were in  school where you got a lower grade than you were expecting  because, despite high marks in all your exams and papers, you didn’t “participate enough” in class.

There are times where people think you are antisocial just because you find it hard to initiate conversations… like that time at a party where you felt out-of-place and you felt anxious about talking to people you didn’t really know all that well.

There are times when people think that you don’t care enough about things just because you aren’t all that comfortable with expressing yourself by talking… like those times when people would try debating with you face-to-face when you find it easier to express yourself through your writings or your art.

It can often be tiring to have people mistake your silence for apathy, your anxiety for snobbery, your awkwardness for lack of skill.

But, although I do get tired of having people underestimate me and/or misread my intentions, I still think that my introversion is a gift.

Extroverts will never know the joys of solitude and of meditation. They will never know the simple bliss of staying indoors, enjoying the company of a good book or some good movies/shows.

They will never know how it feels to be a silent witness–to be able to enjoy the world and all its little pleasures without feeling the need to comment or act on it.

They will never know how wonderful it feels to take yourself out on a date. To go out and enjoy all the things you love doing on your own is a lot like reuniting with an old friend– a friend you had often neglected and pushed aside.

Yes, I can be awkward, neurotic, anxious and silent… but I am also in tune with myself and with nature.


(written by MOVIE GEEK)



For the past few months, or weeks… I’ve met random people.

But not just normal people. People like me.

Broken. In pain. Hurt.

The first one is Paul, a student leader, class president.

One Friday afternoon, I called him for a meeting. We were planning about stuff for the incoming Monday, then I noticed that he’s a bit weird; all-sweaty, anxious, talkative. (he reminded me of my good friend). I told him straight that he’s weird and asked him what his problem was. He then started to tell stories. He’s being bullied for being a student leader. He was so talkative, to the point that I was already annoyed. I wanted to shut his mouth but I also want to listen to him. His story is no different from my friend who took his life. So maybe, just maybe… he really needed somebody to listen in all of the baggage in his heart.

The second one is Mike. A funny (in a positive way) girl.

Before I met her, my mom told me that somebody went to her office and asked her about me. She was surprised that their college dean is my mom. She told my mom that I was her “idol” because she thinks that I’ve already passed my sadness stage and I’m okay now. And I was shocked. Shookt if you may. Somebody is idolizing me because she thinks I’m fine after all the depressing shit I’ve been through. Hmmkay.

I talked to her. Just this Monday night. She’s afraid, she’s guilty, she feels empty.

She started talking, but in a very soft voice. She was shaking her knees and she talks without looking in your eyes. She keeps saying that she’s been locking herself in her room and will start to scream. Her heart was full of painful memories. Then when she shared her 10th-grade story, she started crying. Everything is still fresh in her memory. Everything is still painful.

Actually, there’re more.

But one thing I’ve learned, I have been encouraging people to be stronger and to keep on going with life no matter how hard it is. But no matter how hard I try, I cannot apply all the comforting, securing words I’ve said to them to myself. I might be good at making other people feel good, but when I’m alone, I wish I also have somebody to tell me the things I’ve been telling them.

I felt like crying every night. I feel like I need to tell all the things I am feeling without any filters.

For the past few months, or weeks… I’ve met random people.

But not just normal people. People like me.

Different names. Different stories.

But same feelings.

Night Owl Makes A Friend


Dear Ms. Braid,


I know that writing a letter to express myself is outdated and formal in the modern 21st century, but it is one of the best ways for me to convey what I have to say and feel. If you are willing to reply to my letter, you do not have to do the same thing as I did.

I am not used to approaching people (especially STRANGERS) and starting a conversation face-to-face. This is one of my ways of communicating with someone. You might be thinking this: “When did starting a conversation with someone become a struggle?” Here is my answer to the question (in case you are wondering about it): It started when I realized two reasons. First, I have a rechargeable battery, which means *drum roll please* I need alone time after few hours of interacting with other human beings. I do not have a problem interacting with other human beings (unless he or she is a person who I do not want to be involved with due to past incidences). I do solemnly swear on this, but it is best to recharge my battery to function well in social events. *enters a well-known horror theme song from Psycho* Just hearing the word “social events” makes my rechargeable battery go “kaput”. Second (and lastly), I have a secret power, which YOU MUST NEVER TELL ANYONE. Come closer. Closer. A little bit cloooooseeer… and STOP! My secret power would be that I can make any conversation with someone, who I am not close to, into a deep abyss of silence and awkwardness. Mwahahaha! I am not saying I am proud of it. Although I am ashamed and embarrassed of being bestowed with such power, I still have to go through it with my head held high. *secretly dies inside every time it happens*

Anyway, my point is I want to close the gap between us. I want to be more than a stranger or an acquaintance to you. I want to be your friend, if it is okay with you. I know. I know. You might be thinking this: “Why go all through this trouble, if all I wanted is to be your friend? All you have to do is ask, silly!” Simple. I am a person who values relationships. I do not take it for granted. This is my way of saying that I am sincere and serious about this. I do not want to be your friend due to quantity. I want to be your friend in order to know more about who you are and what you want to become.

All in all, this is everything I have to say (hopefully for now).


                                                         Sincerely neurotic,

                                                              Night Owl

Dear Anxiety

A Series of Random Thoughts


Dear Anxiety,

You’ve been around all my life. And through the ages, you have grown from a tiny, seemingly insignificant little speck to a large, irritating monster.

From the very first moment I found you knocking at my door, I made it clear that you were unwelcome but you barged into my home anyway. Back then, you only showed up from time to time but now, you follow me wherever I go.

You follow me around during the day, making sure that I am constantly on edge. You follow me at night and fill my head with worries that keep me from sleeping soundly.

You laugh at my plans and poke holes into my schemes. You mock my desires and make me believe that I can never reach them.

You lay with me in bed and crush me with your weight. You enjoy it whenever I can’t sit up or…

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