Hello. Nice to meet you. I’m an introvert born in middle of a summer.

Born in summer – what is it like to you? To me, when I think about a summer girl, it’s always that one image that comes up in my mind. A girl with smiling eyes, turning her back to the sunset so that her beautiful long hair and the line of her face would glow in the warm yellow of a late afternoon. It is the smile that gives you peace and relief. It is the smile that wakes your mind and brightens your soul. It is a smile that you would not forget because it has stayed somewhere in your heart like a beautifully sunny day after a tiring life of cold and lonely nights.

Like the dream you would want to keep when you wake up as you wish you could live in it for weeks or even years.

I was born in a summer like that, the summer of a tropical country that could even burn you dead. But I can only wish I could be like her, that girl in my imagination, glowing in this dark and hopeless world so that she could be seen in the sea of people. Unfortunately, I’m an introvert. Introvert in nature. I’m not that girl who would be loud around lots of friends. I’m not that girl who would choose to party while she could stay home and watch her favorite movies instead. I’m not the girl you would spot at a shopping center laughing with a bunch of girlfriends. And how convenient it is for an introvert when all she ever likes is to write and draw?

You know what it is really like?

I love to think. I enjoy the train rides that give me enough time to think. Then I would stay at home for days or even months and weeks if I ever could. Without seeing anyone at all – I would still feel fine. While you are bored of staying home, that’s the thing that I couldn’t get enough of. I love my place – the safe home I could hide away from the world and finally breathe. I love every Saturday morning staying on bed and just being lazy, then later I would draw or not be doing anything at all. I would just stare at the sky, daydreaming about random things or sometimes a place to which I would belong. Something that I would be a part of. People that we would feel comfortable around each other – without trying.

I have been always jealous of people who are gifted at music – a gift that can be shown to others and easily universally appreciated. When I write and draw, it’s like a long journey that never reaches its destination – no one would have enough time to actually touch it. And it’s too hard to see inside, to be understood in its best way. While music can be beautifully felt by lots of people, a piece of writing to be read – especially for an introvert – is a huge amount of efforts for her to ever open up herself – probably in the hope of being seen for once though she wouldn’t dream of it. Like the unrequited love. It hurts and is scary. But she endures it because it’s enough for her to be real to herself in her own world.

Sometimes I don’t know whether I’m blessed or cursed to be born like this. I wonder if this world I’m seeing is a special one. How I feel things. How I appreciate the things that few would notice. Just small and random things but it seems to stay longer than I had expected. The love that I’d like to give. I keep thinking that it must be born for some reasons and there must be someone out there who would appreciate it. But it’s cursed because my normal state is not when I’m with someone but when I’m on my own – an introvert from blood – enjoying my own solitude. I’m fine until someone new appears and then they just walk away without even once looking back. Now I’m scared of it. I don’t dare to remember because I’m scared of having to forget. I just want to stay away because I’m scared of watching someone leaving. Had I ever experienced any feeling like that. It hurts so much that I have to force myself not to think about it. Then train myself to be cold. To be the first to run. Like a coward.

Please. Don’t run like a coward. Please talk a bit more and be good to each other. Don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt yourself.

I wish it could be different. I keep desparately longing for a smile somewhere. Like that summer girl in my imagination. The sunshine that presses the on button for the wild self inside me. Like now – it’s a winter cold day. I wish for a muse that overwhelms me with his energy and passion. Someone who holds on to the world and believes in himself so much that I have no reason to withdraw anymore. Something bright from its core but would leave enough room for me to be a part of it. I’d choose a destiny that would never betray him. I would touch his soul and be the one that holds him tight when he’s tired and weak. I would let him cry in my arms and then we be against the world again. I’d be the woman that makes him proud and protects him in my own way. Then with him by my side, I could let out the best me who would run free and do all the things she had held back inside. Be the best me possible that could be seen and appreciated by him.

A gentle and over protective love I’d give to a person like him. A Cancerian woman’s motherly nature. A girl who believes in fate. But it’s hard for a Cancer to trust and to know if that’s her fate. She wants to just stick to one and be loyal to that person to death. She’s a fool in this world with that cursed mindset. She could cry over a person after even years just because she regrets the love that could have been nurtured, the connection that could have been tight, the people that could have stayed together. Always think too much, care too much, say too much – probably the wrong things to the wrong people. Most of the time, she runs after something that is not good for her and not appreciative of her. She is aware of it. I’m aware of it. But we can’t do anything about it because we are born this way. We wouldn’t just need someone for their company. We need the inspiration from that. Ideas are still what matters most to us. The idea of growing up and becoming adults. The idea of living alone as an indepedent individual. The idea of young people. The idea of a late night conversation with some drinks and then wild sex. The idea of a man who would cry. The idea of a hand with long fingers. The idea of a beautiful young guy who cannot be loved. The idea of a wild girl who cannot be tamed. We are deluded by our own ideas of the world- not experimenting to know the world as it is. We touch the world just for a sole purpose of isolating our own self from others so that loneliness – at least for now – would be more beautiful. How sick is that?

Still, a selfish love from blood, two people against the world – that idea is still growing inside me. I’m writing so that he would see me in the crowd and come find me. I would tell him about all the strange ideas I’ve ever had. And nights we get drunk and be wild together. We would talk and make love into infinity.

How sick is that? How sick am I? Am I ever accepted? Can I live in a world as I ever dream of? Does anyone see the world as I do? Does anyone want to live it with me?

I keep asking and only the silence answers me. Then probably time.

It’s just – just the life of an introvert born in summer, you know.