Dawn to dusk I stand staring at the walls. Surrounded by the souls of the hunted and the haunted. Walls and the barricades inbound- home to office, desk to the bed. To and fro I move around. As the sun rises from the east the gloomy faces brighten up with their joyful clinking up of a cup of tea. They look at me with a sense of doubt- “You mean what you say, but you don’t realise what you say? You are a Pandora of talent yet nobody has tapped it until now? What are YOU?”
The following is an excerpt from the personal diary of an introvert. Reader’s discretion is advised against the musing.
Yet there I stand, giving them hints after hints for what it is that I am correlating with. It’s meant to be understood by the person it is meant for. However stuck in my introvert vibe I am thrown- like a boomerang whizzing past one end to another with or without a catch. Albeit, a boomerang is bound to return, but will it? That’s the dilemma we are living in. Into the world of an introvert.
The world of an introvert is a dilemma of “to be or not to be”. It is an abyss which is gazing back into thee. An uprooted flower spreading its essence, frozen to the core but preserved from withering. An impulsive hobbit clinging to a crumbling ground, climbing up only to fall behind. Yet the mountain of doom lies ahead, no ring to wither the Sauron within. However, darkness fails where our sparks begin.
Still, they persist with the crown of Nazguls. Poking their nose they quiz with their grumpy heads “it’s so positive being around you. Are you a forever smiling saint or a noble soul?” Smiling at their innocent inquisition, I gaze into thy eyes “I am no saint or a noble soul. I am the haunted and the hunted. I am what you call “the INTROVERT”.
– by boringbug
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