The Eremitic Introvert

As an Introvert, I am (Fortunately) Not …

1. … outwardly cheerful. If I’m happy and I know it, there’s absolutely no reason for me to show it to you.

2. … happy to meet/see you. I really don’t care, and I really don’t want to have to stop and talk. I can, however, smile and say whatever polite words are required in order to avoid drama.

3. … shy. I experience anxieties when having to be among people, in the sense of trying to find the quickest way out of the conversation without causing conflict — and I avoid conflict only because I resent having to feed someone else’s compulsive need for attention, when that energy could be better directed elsewhere.

4. … generous with personal information. I dislike talking, especially about myself. Questions in general serve only to draw us into the ugly maze of conversation (or argument). It violates my sense of integrity to tell people personal details about myself, and it leaves me with a repulsive feeling in my psyche.

5. … generous with anything. I fortunately am free from the need to make self-important displays of humanitarianism. A gregarious personality attracts humans like feces draw flies, and philanthropic acts are generally “repaid” by being swamped by the swarm.

6. … silently judging you. I’m just wishing I were somewhere else, far away from you, and free to do as I desire. I don’t want to have to think about you at all. I’m anticipating all the wonderful things I can do when you finally go away.

7. … a good listener. On rare occasions, I am genuinely interested, but I usually become intensely bored listening to other people. So I wander, mentally, into better places until I can escape literally.

Likewise, I see how the initial flood of relief that comes when we are finally alone can be satisfying and perhaps addictive to some introverts, but I always feel much better without unwanted human contact in the first place.

8. … nice. It’s not a priority for me to be seen as amicable. I want to be left alone. It’s not a matter of antagonism, rather of disinterest, and we all know that the opposite of love is not hatred, but indifference. My level of love for humanity isn’t what society approves of or considers “nice”, but I don’t consider anyone who gratuitously tries to force their presence on others to be very “nice” either.

9. … always outwardly disagreeable. I can, and usually do, behave courteously in order to avoid confrontation, as conflict only prolongs the unwanted interaction, wasting my time and mental efforts.

10. … adventurous. I detest adventure. I despise traveling. I loathe new environments and meeting new people, and I abhor trying new things and suffering their unexpected and averse effects.

I prefer that my attention is not drained away by an avalanche of meaningless external diversions. I’m not amused by novelty, nor by anything which is of no profound significance to me. I crave tranquility, comfort, solitude, self-reflection, and the freedom to escape into my own world. (I also recoil at the thought being trapped in a car with other people, and having nowhere to retreat.)

11. … outdoorsy. Being a private person, I don’t care for the open air or the feeling of being exposed. I only like to escape into the outdoors if it’s crowded inside.

12. … “concerned” about any of this. I am no longer ashamed. I know my perspectives are not socially acceptable, but they are valid as they are. They are not something to “work on” or to change. I don’t want to be the outgoing “ideal” which society tries to mold us into. I feel a deep, intense aversion to that type of person and to their lifestyle. They make me feel fortunate to be as I am, despising all which I despise, with awareness.



Dear Idiots,

Why am I so quiet? Perhaps it is because I value ideals such as dignity and composure, and clods like you disgust me.

Why are you so vociferous? Perhaps we’re better off without your (unsolicited, excessive, incessant) commentary.

Why must you be so obnoxious? Why can’t you keep yourself together — especially in public?

Do you feel the need to attack me simply because I have no interest in you? Is it because I seem to display an immunity to your frantic attention-seeking tactics? Or is it because you envy my character? Do you see something in me which you lack? Is it integrity?

And why do you frame criticism as “innocent” questions, donning the same idiotic “faux-curious” expression? Is it more socially acceptable this way? Probably. Compared to an overt insult, your tactic is even more transparent, artless, and rude — prerequisites for acceptence in contemporary society.

Do you enjoy being on the other side of the interrogation? Questions for questions. Quid pro quo. …

I have another question. Have you ever seen a chicken with its head cut off? I haven’t, but I’ve heard they behave like you.

Don’t tell me, ad nauseum, that I “need” or “should have” more confidence, when you lack much more important things yourself. (Like, again, integrity.) You should really work on your intelligence and self-control.

The reason I don’t retaliate verbally, in the heat of the moment, is because I find the notion distasteful. Your repulsive belligerence shows only a lack of discernment. I don’t want to regress to your primitive level. Also, I refuse to feed your insatiable need for constant drama, validation and attention. (Once one feeds something, it keeps coming back, and I really, really want no more contact or interaction with you.)

So, dear churls, please know that your coersive and abasing attempts at degradation are inconsequential, and that you don’t matter to me. There are things I wish to accomplish, and I don’t want you and your triviality and harassment draining and hindering me, even if you believe my goals are not as important as your anencephalic “past times”. (My idea of a “good time” is evidently substantially different from yours, and I am indescribably grateful for this.) And I dislike having to dumb myself down to avoid attacks from filth like you.