You know, I don’t think people realize how lonely life can be for introverts. I over think conversations. I avoid social situations and when I find myself in a social situation, I freeze. I think relationships I have with other people can be more than they are and often times in my head they are. In reality I know they are not, I find myself reaching out to talk to people I meet who obviously don’t want to talk to me. I hardly ever am able to do it over the phone or just have a normal conversation with them. I will email them. I can email because it is safer.
I recently emailed someone who didn’t respond, and still hasn’t to this day. The last time I was alone with them, I couldn’t speak, talk, or look at them past just a glance. When we did meet each others eyes, the other party looked a bit angry. Of course, that could just be me over thinking it. So, I emailed like normal but it has been two or three weeks and there has been no response. I was venting in the email about things that had happened to me that day. Maybe I offended them in some way?
Any way, I get so lonely sometimes I think while I am out running errands or at my work, that the people I would consider friends are there with me. Talking, laughing, and having fun. Maybe its a coping mechanism for being alone all the time?
So I have been imagining this person, I considered a friend (obviously in my head), with me out and about. I get the feeling I may have had feelings for this person so them not emailing me back has surprisingly made me very sad. I guess what I am trying to say is if you have a friend who is introverted and they only communicate one way with you, be there for them.
It can be quite lonely when you are introverted.
Since I can’t even brain the words to say hello to you let alone tell you this, I shall write a note you will never see. I am entirely infatuated with you. Not just your physical beauty but also your humor, your intelligence, and an admiration for your triumphs. I am enthralled with your smile full of dimples and your eyes the color of the clearest ocean. Your dark chocolate locks and your fair skin kissed pink by the desert sun. I want to hear stories of your travels abroad and your adventures down under. I want you down under. I once had a vision of you, fingers deep in exstasy and prayed you thought of me that way too. I once imagined you laughing at a picnic and I hoped that one day we could share books on a checkered blanket too. Your name rolls around in my brain and collides in my everyday so much that sometimes I could swear you were there with me. I can’t brain the words though to start a decent conversation with you. I tried igniting a query from you by poking around and provoking thoughtful insight into your ideas and your passions, but since you are my professor… you kept it professional. You kept me at a distance and I was too scared to push it. Your womanly charms have trapped me in thought of you. and you will never know…
I’m always alone. I so desperately want to reach out. speak up. make friends. find love. but for some reason, I can’t breathe, my head is swimming, and my heart is dropping the beat so hard, I’m pretty sure it will explode. Please stranger, I really want to shake your hand, greet you, and be pleased to make your acquaintance, it’s just that there is so much trembling and scared feelings in the space between your fingertips and mine it might as well be the grand canyon. Please, lifelong friend, I want to call you to hang out, to check up on you, to just chit chat, but the phone is in the other room and by the time I get there I always talk myself out of it thinking you’re too busy, too ‘on the go’, too full of ‘hey can i call you back? I’m sort of doing something right now’. Please dearest and closest family member, I know we have spent years trading kisses for punches and congratulations with ‘you could do better’s’ but all I really want to do is curl up in a hug with you, but the space between your back turned and my arms wide open is treacherous and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to build that rocket to get to your galaxy. I am always alone. I wish I could rush past this tongue tied version of myself and just come out and say it, to invite you, to say I want to get to know you, your mind is the right shade of gorgeous and I am just dying to surround myself in the smell of you, but right now… all I can do is muster up enough courage to walk from my car into the coffee shop, place my order, and leave with my coffee, without panicking. I’m sorry people, I can’t hear you because without these loud ass headphones and music made to drown out the world, I would be rendered flightless in fetal position wanting it all to end now. I’m always alone, I so desperately want to talk to you, all of you, but right now… I cant even breathe.
I like wearing black and white. The contrast suits me, notso much that I look handsome or beautiful in such simply uncolored garb, but because it is me. The spawn of lower middle/poor class African American teenage mother and a financially similar Spaniard Caucasian father. I am the clearly grey colored female of my species. A species that, for me, is always a constant and perpetual reminder of my ‘middle-dom’. In life I have spent most of my life as my own contradiction and as my own shade. On one hand I clearly see a need for hair grease or conditioner and an appreciation of the wonderful nature and ever turning tide of Ebonics. The other hand sees a more musical need of hair metal and a decent green bean casserole on thanksgiving. An overlapping of clearly divided stereotypes left me headbanging to metallica after my mother bathed me as a child along with many days spent sitting on a porch watching my father spit watermelon seeds. Many times I did not fit in. The English language astounds me as is and I do not enjoy eating watermelon. In this world everyone seems to have a category. A place on the census taken once or twice a year by phone, email, or a piece of paper in a mailbox. I, however, do not have a place for my check mark.
I am easily offended by the phrase “please choose only one…” There isn’t only one for me. There is all and yet none. Panamanian grandmother coupled with a military straight laced African American from the east coast grandfather who just so happened to be stationed in Panama. My mother was born in Louisiana and raised me with what she knew best and with the best intentions. My deet was a southern belle who fell in love with a Spaniard native american bad boy. My father has always had his band and his woman for as long as i have known him.
I am not defined by nor setting out to live up to either. I do not see my gray in most TV. I hardly ever see my gray in movies nor in the history books and texts that I sit in my room and flip through to answer question number seventeen. In fact, the only mention that I can recall in history of my gray is light enough to work in the house, but too dark to be at the table. Somewhere in the middle of history, in between okay to look at but still not good enough.
Many laws and societal norms have kept me in the midway. Laws such as ‘the one-sixteenth rule” and societal norms such as “please choose only one.” Societal norms that state I must memorize text written by no one who resembles the gray me.
I am now the gray that defines it’s own path. I am living up to who I can become. I am my own definition. A living breathing beautiful contradiction, whom now, after being somewhere in the middle, see a similar reflection of me at the most powerful seat in the house. MY HOUSE. Somewhere in my gray, I sit on top of a free world paved before me. Using my own example, I intend to breach the middle and move beyond it.
No more is there a “please choose only one…”
If there is no singular encompassing definition for my gray, I will make one.
so I am a lesbian and I’m not exactly out to everyone I know. This may be unsettling to some people but here is the thing, I am way more comfortable being known for who I am then what I am to be labeled. Granted some might see this as me hiding in the closet or something to that effect or not being wholly honest with those around me but it’s almost the exact opposite.
People are naturally confused by me. I am a 6 foot tall mixed woman who squeals about shoes and kicks people in the head for fun. I work at a truck stop and study to work in a museum. I know how to dress for the occasion and how to be a stunner (both in “masculine” and “feminine” wear). I go crazy over good J-dramas and manga then turn around and laugh in horror movies. Everything about me really reads “wtf-word?”
I find that just by being me and being comfortable in who I am, people tend to judge me more for my actions than if I were to go around with a ‘dyke’ label. People see more of me in a human sense. People are confused and just accepting. In my life it doesn’t matter. I only talk to a select few about my love life (including my mother) and the rest is just me.
Hooray for those who came out! we are all proud of you! we all love you!
I just came out to those who matter in my life and the rest view me for me without the label.
The fall semester started with another tournament. Gold in forms, Silver in sparring. The Silver has me super disappointed, but i will get over with the next one September 28.
The only thing is… I have been distracted.
You see, someone has caught my eye. Maybe not just my eye. She has got my thoughts, my dreams, and occasionally she has got my heart racing. I have lots of training to do and only three weeks to do it now. I have a degree that i am working on which is getting harder and harder the more chemistry i have to take. I am trying my very best to do all i can and working part time graveyards to pay for it all and all i can think about is my distraction.
I can barely talk around her. It’s hard to let the words come out when she is around. All i can do is try not to get caught checking her out when she is around. Which, by the way, i think is super obvious. Sometimes i cant help it man, she is just too damn hot!
So to solve my problem, i have come up with a clever solution. I will distract myself from my distraction. I will train harder, work harder, find books, find movies, discover new music, and study harder than ever before! Distract from the distraction…
Except for when my distraction is distracting me from the distractions to distract myself from her… distractions….