I don’t know how to say it all the time.
Sometimes I’m yours — but sometimes I’m mine;
And I wish that that could just be fine…
But I’m afraid you’ll see that it’s a crime.
Once again, my posting may be rather irregular for a while. Got some family visiting. So, if I happen to be absent for a bit, that’s just me getting some shut eye after being stalked by my far too talkative, I-swear-she’s-extroverted niece. Perhaps there are times where I can be accused of gregariousness… But put me side-by-side with my niece, and I might as well be the most uptight, social-loathing introvert on the planet by comparison.
They observe it just for laughs:
How I shun handshakes like lances.
There’s something in the way I act,
Dodging crowds and dodging glances.
It’s the walking into things,
The never-present stare;
Hoping they won’t notice me.
Hoping they won’t see me there.
They observe it just for kicks,
That I’m always somewhat absent.
I hope that they don’t see
Just where it was my mind went;
For while they go about watching me,
I’m observing them:
Trying to find why it’s so hard
For me and not for them.
We had a conversation,
I don’t know if you remember:
It was sometime in between
Now and last December.
We were out upon a walk,
As we were wont to do;
And we were talking ’bout whatever
It was we wanted to.
Our conversation struck
Upon a topic as like gold;
So rare, so precious to me —
And you allowed it to unfold.
We so seldom talk
Of the things within our hearts;
To hear such is a joy
So keen it almost smarts.
In this case, it was hearts themselves
Upon which the conversation ran:
Extroversion and introversion,
And who was who in our little clan.
Our youngest brother, you declared,
Was an extrovert for sure;
I was somewhat skeptic,
But eventually deferred.
From there we skipped straight to
The question of ourselves:
And it was no question (not to me),
For we’ve lived our lives as if on shelves.
You define yourself an introvert
With a certain pride;
I heartily agree,
And put myself upon that side.
Here’s where comes my shock —
For you are not so sure!
You intimate I’m still a child
And I’ve yet to grow some more.
So now as I laugh and chat and smile
And listen to them talk,
I come to almost wonder
If that should really make me balk.