Worrying over the next interaction with another human is a daily routine. It was the beginning of the semester, a promising time for students who wish to break free of their monotonous Netflix binges and make a connection with people who aren’t pixels on a screen. This could be me. I all I would have to do was put on a brave face and pretend like smiling at the girl next to me wasn’t making my hands shake. I hoped she didn’t catch on to my stuttering.

I am an introvert. I enjoy the sporadic company of others followed by long periods of a pencil and paper being my only friend. I choose this word, out of millions of other letters I could piece together, because it is important to me that my classmates know checking my worksheets on my own doesn’t upset me. I chose this word when it seemed as though “shy” was not large enough to encompass all of the moments when I felt lost in conversation.

However, “shy” is how others define me. Quick to judge, they take one look at the way I remain at my desk, working through my history homework when I could be socializing with friends and think that maybe I just dislike everyone. Maybe I have no interest in making friends and that’s my fault. I probably look depressed to the average person, isolating myself from the obnoxious crowds. Or maybe I pass by undetected and I just worry that every time someone is looking in my direction, they are staring at me.
 

I recall a time in middle school, seventh grade, I had to drop papers off at the office for my teacher. I walked very swiftly through the hallway, avoiding confrontation as best I could. My focus on counting the floor tiles was interrupted, though, by a “Hi, Taylor!” which I very quietly responded to. As I kept walking, I counted two high-fives, a wave, and three more greetings. Thus began my year or two of confidence. Maybe I was still quiet but I knew people. I could even be considered popular in my school of seventy-five people per grade. I was on top of the world. Being an introvert was not always a suffocating hand, threatening what little of a voice I had.
That voice was silenced, however, the day I met Josh. I had been single for almost four months when my close friend, Zac, decided it was high-time I stop third-wheeling to him and his new girlfriend. He gave me Josh’s number and it didn’t take long for the text-conversations to run continuously through the day and after the sun went down. Josh had been in Florida so meeting him would not be a challenge I had to face for a couple weeks. When the time finally did arrive, the one worry on my mind was what if I’m boring? Zac described him as an outgoing guy who loves to joke around. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for the awkward couple of hours I had planned. There was little time to even think when I received a text from him, announcing his arrival. Here. I never thought those letters could be so frightening when joined side by side. I decided in a matter of two seconds to walk out on my phone so I didn’t seem too excited or nervous. I would be cool and detached, only looking up for a second to say “Hey”. Four months later and Josh is the only one I can have over for hours on end and be completely comfortable.

Sometimes when I talk to people for too long, even on the phone, my whole body starts shaking. I worry if it is noticeable then realize there is not much I can do to cease my convulsive movements. It is interesting to me that something as easy as a conversation can be such a chore, day in and day out reminding myself to be funny, to say something worth my breath. Sometimes I’m too quiet for anyone to even notice that I opened up my mouth. Around a third to a half of people in the United States are introverts, struggling with the same inability to contribute to small talk, though it seems as if I’m alone.

I knew I was an introvert long before field hockey season. The signs were clear from my first days of kindergarten. It was obvious how reluctant of conversation I was, though, at the athletic banquet this year. It was my first year on varsity and they always give out funny awards, highlighting how aggressive or gregarious a teammate is. My name was called and I shuffled over in my heels, one size too small, to receive my award: best hair. They didn’t know what else to write on my certificate because nobody really knew me. Who takes the time to befriend a girl who has trouble even speaking?  So they put an obvious trait, simply referencing that my hair was longer than anyone else’s. I pretended to laugh just as I later pretended to not be completely scared when they wanted to take a funny picture. Funny? Can you please define that word and use it in a sentence because I am lost?

I would say that I wish people would make an effort to start a conversation with me, to help me “break out of my shell”, but then I would be acting as if there is nobody out there who cares to share a word with me. As a world, we act as if each and every one of us is alone, but in doing this, we forget about the many friends, family, and random strangers in our lives who reach out to us daily. I get too lost in the awkward moments to remember the random boy who started a conversation with me just to tell me I looked pretty or the girl that sits next to me who says hi every morning just so I don’t feel lonely for the next ninety minutes.

Just as Nancy Mairs feels in her essay On Being a Cripple, I fear that people are only nice to me because they feel as if they have to be. With so many teenagers taking their own lives, who would want to ignore anyone who seems secluded? I am not a sad story, though, and I don’t need a caretaker. If I wanted to be around people, I would force myself to go to sleepovers and parties. The truth of the matter is that I would rather sleep in my own bed, or dance around my room to my own music.

I hope to be an art therapist one day where I can excel in helping other introverts navigate their way through a loud chaotic world. I am not cemented to an awkward and shy personality. Would I ever change? Yes, it would be nice to wake up each morning without the constant apprehension that comes with socializing, however, this is an obstacle that can only make me stronger as a person.