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Writing is but one of the ways a quiet mind can scream at the World for its stupidity, but the only way an Introvert can truly open the eyes of the World and prove it.
- From an Introvert's Mind to an Extrovert World.

Message from Writer

I'm one of the most introverted people you will ever meet, so if I don't warm up immediately, its not your fault.

Internal Wasteland

December 13, 2015


I can always hear it in my own voice, that moment when I'm about to just break. Every negative feeling and thought destroy whatever remnants of my own sanity and my own optimistic self remain anywhere near that wasteland of self-loathing. There's a sudden crack, when I speak. A wavering, weak tone that's just - so pathetic that, almost on instinct: I am looked upon in pity.

It is then that my walls crumble. It is then that I will just sprint, into my safe haven that is my room, my doorless room where all that can keep my parents out is a navy curtain. 

My throat burns. I feel my face heat as boiling tears just freely fall until I'm a sniffling, hiccuping mess. Until I'm fumbling and whispering a panicked prayer, a mantra, anything to just calm myself down, until I'm stuttering out "I miss you's" into the open air to loved one's that are long gone. Relatives, old friends, my best friend's mother who died of Cancer the summer before our final year of middle school while I was miles away from her; crying into my pillow because I felt so guilty that I was in South Carolina instead of back home. 

Yet... at this time, the house is silent. My parents asleep since God knows when, and I'm stuck, with tear-stained vision staring at my ceiling and the stupid, glow-in-the-dark stars I've had since primary school. The darkness becomes my friend, calming me long enough to force down the bile that's rising in my throat from crying too hard; soothing me long enough to fumble around for my phone on its charger, and my tangled headphones. Long enough that shaking fingers can enter the five digit code to unlock the device; to find my playlist and hit shuffle. 

Until the familiar words of Bastille and Fall Out Boy and Nirvana fill my ears and I'm finally settling. 
Until I'm silently singing along to the familiar lullabies and I can finally sleep.

And until I supress so many emotions that the same routine happens again.


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