My head took a wrong turn, back when I shouted “right.”

So now I’m sitting with this aching headache, and half blinded eyes.

It’s fine, I suppose, if you like puppet shows.

Or maybe if you like movies in 3D.

I’m not often bothered by either of the two, but I do find a nuisance, in tongue twisters.

Because my tongue went right, and my head went left,

So I sit back and let you all do the talking.

I laugh with effort.

I smile with effort.

But I wonder if it matters that I’m here making an effort at all.

 

Perhaps I’ll blame the humidity.

When the air is heavy and thick, it makes effort harder, as my tongue sticks to my lips.

My words just hang, suspended in the rain that cannot bring itself to fall.

And I stay suspended, unquenched and suffocating.

 

I’d like to blame you, all of you, for my unclear thoughts.

Because your lives are the rain drops that refuse to fall.

They hang suspended, but I’m left unquenched and suffocating.

My heartbeat sounds in my head, and I wonder if this is how they all feel.

The introverts.

The friendless.

The quiet ones.

Do they hear their heartbeats?

Do they feel their thoughts caught in the tangle of humidity?

Do they watch through eyes bound by their lashes?

Do they look in the mirror and gasp at what they see?

Do they strive for solitude?

Do they strive for peace?

Do they long for the rain to break free?

 

The sweat beads and rolls down my neck.

My stomach clenches.

I can’t put this effort in much longer.

Perhaps I’ll find a quiet place to rest.

Perhaps I’ll find a place to go, quiet and quenched.

Perhaps I’ll show my true self.

Introvert.

 

But my dearest ones, do not be mistaken.

It’s not you, it’s often me.

I believe if you asked, I’d give you my heart.

For love isn’t bound by the weather forecast.

Instead it is boundless and free.

I love and I love, but my heartbeat still sounds.

Reminding me it’s time to tuck in.

It’s time to rest, and remember myself, before I forget my friends.

 

But as I wipe the sweat from my brow, and turn back to the right,

My tongue is lax to catch up.

So I ride in the silence, wishing for rain, and wondering

When the humidity will drop.

But I wonder once more if it matters that I’m here making an effort at all.

Does it matter if I’m here?

 

And the lightening flashes,

And the thunder rolls,

My heartbeat steadies with the sound of the coming storm.

The humidity is breaking and so are my thoughts.

Because I am an introvert.

And an introvert is nothing more than a person.

A person who loves, and laughs, and remembers, and cries,

Just like you.

But this introvert wants, more than anything else,

To know that if she left it would matter.

To know that they care half as much as she.

This introverts wants to know her silence is not unnoticed.

Silence does not equal worthless.

 

This introvert wants someone to agree.

 

She wants an extrovert to step down from their pedestal of fame,

Ask if she feels alright.

And when she answers, they accept her yes,

But at least she knows they care.

This introvert wants an extrovert to love her.

She wants to be loved in her silence.

She wants to be loved in the humidity and the rain.

 

But perhaps we all want what we cannot give.

 

And as the thought of love breaks, whether fantasy or fact,

I hear the crack of the clouds and rain rolls forward.

I jump from the car, and the rain hits my face.

Fast.

Furious.

Calming.

Little drops of humidity finally set free.

It washes away the heat, and the stickiness of the day.

And all that’s left is an introvert who’s getting wet in the rain.

All that’s left is a person, with unsaid thoughts, and unheard dreams.

And she often wonders if they care half as much as she.