I am much more comfortable staying home and reading than mingling at parties or screaming over live bands at bars — but that doesn’t mean I like being a homebody. It doesn’t mean I am happy isolating myself, pushing other people away, remaining on my own.
I get jealous of extroverts, of how easily they can walk up to someone they hardly even know and hold an hour-long conversation with them. I can spend months building a relationship with someone, slowly growing more open and comfortable around them, and an extrovert can swoop right in and get along with that person better than I ever could while they’re still strangers. It only takes them a few seconds to accomplish what it takes me months to achieve.
I wish I could hold a conversation instead of killing it with my awkwardness.
I wish I felt comfortable in crowds instead of lonely.
I wish I was the life of the party, not the person who makes up excuses for missing the party.
Even though I want to make more friends, I want to be more social, I want to feel like I belong, I never know what to say in conversations. There are moments where I stare at my phone and avoiding eye contact with everyone — but there are other moments where I try. I use my voice. I give my opinions. I text first. I walk over and say hello. I force myself to socialize, but the conversations always feel forced. I can tell the other person doesn’t want to be there, that they are judging me, that they don’t want anything to do with me and are searching for an exit.
I hate how difficult it is for me to make friends. I hate how most of my nights are spent alone in my bedroom. I hate being considered shy and having people point out how it’s the most they’ve ever heard me speak when I finally have the courage to talk to them. I hate everything about being an introvert.
I hate being so anxious whenever other people are around. I hate how nervous I get before stepping out from my house. I hate how I feel like I am constantly missing out. Like I should be going to parties and concerts and dates, but am staying home instead because I am too afraid to leave my comfort zone.
I wish I was one of those people who wore their introversion like a crown. The people who don’t give a fuck about spending their weekends alone. The people who feel the most peaceful when they are cozy inside with warm sweaters and coffee mugs. The people who are confident with who they are because they realize being introverted is not bad. It does not make them any less interesting to be around. It does not make them boring or weird or an outsider.
I love other introverts. I wish I had their confidence. I wish I had their peace of mind. I wish I loved myself.