Each night I am at war with myself. A war amidst the labyrinth of my thoughts with my sleep wherein most of the times I’m lost in the conundrum of how can my mind mess my thoughts of melancholy and euphoria, giving me major mood swings throughout the day. I end up having sleepless thoughtful nights of peace externally and chaos internally. Although a place and time I love and survive the best.
The next morning eventually becomes my nightmare. Because honestly, I am allergic to face the world. I’m allergic to people around.
“Allergy is a medical condition that causes someone to become sick after being in contact with something which is harmless to most people.”
Exactly what I feel when I step out in the real world. Because the people here have got plans, goals, aims of being powerful. Powerful, not in terms of words, thoughts nd ideas. Powerful; in terms of fame, money and status. And the precipitate it has on people’s mind is, “thoughts of comparison”; comparing one’s state of being to another’s. To make it worse, they start comparing their own success with others, disturbing the uniqueness the Almighty created at first place.
If I’m ever blessed to have a child, I’d consider myself successful at parenting only if I can teach it to walk away from a place, situation or being the very first time it is being compared to anyone around.
If I can’t withstand the notion of everyone around why do I deserve to be compared? I don’t.
Also, no matter how hard I try to fit in, I’m labelled everything I’m not.
Slowly this world becomes a place to be abandoned. Because I’m a wallflower expecting this world to become better someday. Although all I’m offered is a place where “exposure becomes torture” and people like me are tagged “introverts”. And this world each day becomes more inconsiderable and my nights longer and acceptable!
And the verses depicting my thoughts~
I am holding onto being this thing;
This thing what they call, an “introvert”
‘Cause I choose to feel the solitary lonesome,
As the world’s exhibitionistic zing I desert.
I grudge as I try to stay quiet, while
Those backslappers steal the spotlight
“You lack being an enthusiast”, is what I hear.
I say, “You lack seeing me as a wildflower.”
Your hearts pound as you show off your ingenuity;
Like at the party you’re, music being so loud.
But alas! not louder than our minds aroused
While we ink the shambles of our poetry.
The crowds and their thoughts on us
Feels apalling giving raised hackles; goosebumps
You see, I started writing “us” as I know
I ain’t alone on those nights you call lonely.
And I call lovely.
At the end of the day an introvert just becomes a person who’s highly vulnerable to critiques.