Terms.

Susan Cain's TedX video is a beautiful testimony to the fact that introverts are amazing people.
And so are tumblr sites. And Luchie's Introversion comic.

It made me think of what I am.
I don't believe in terms, but I do know that we are bound to live by them, or else we'd be called lunatics and won't survive.

Also, living by terms is more interesting. I'll explain all this later, when I feel like it.
(That's how I do stuff. When I feel like it.)

But what I feel right now- is the confusion- regarding 'which term' is for me.
Am I extroverted?
Introverted?
Or am I an ambivert?

It's better to not believe in terms- when it comes to what kind of a person one is based on their social prowess. Because it all depends on the situation.
But then again, because it depends on the situation at hand, it is important to know what one is.

An introvert could act as if he's really extroverted, and no one would ever know.
If my Fountainhead goes around talking loudly and horsing around, it really does not mean he is extroverted.
He is having fun. He is not an extrovert.

I could be coming to that party where everyone is going to.
I find solace in the fact I can easily lie about why I am not coming and just avoid confrontations.
I hate drama.
And it's lovely to stay at home and eat and grow fat reading books and watching anime.

I do take risks.
Everyday.
Just talking to a person so boldly as I've lately begun doing is a lot for me.
I can stand up to my class, now, and talk.
It's still a risk, even if now I can at least talk. It's still a risk because inside- I'm crumbling with embarrassment.
And then I shrug it off, as certain people have taught me.
It bothers me, in the moment, though.
I still hate public speaking.
I don't think I'd ever be able to do it.
Giving speeches, reciting, enacting a drama- it really isn't for me. Even if it is something that I can attempt without dying, it isn't for me.

A fish can't learn to fly.
But it can at least attempt a leap outside the water, can't it?

And people who think introverts are shy people who can't love-
Think again.

We love fiercely, with passion.
Think of Lyra and Will.
Estha and Rahel.
Two cats swishing tails.
The Little Prince. And his rose.

We love so fiercely, we lose ourselves.

Coming back to a term-
I think you know what it is, Fountainhead.

Nay, we aren't introverts.
Nor extroverts- that's laughable.
Ludicrous.
Ambiverts?

We aren't what these terms define people as- based on their social skills.

Nay, nay.

We are simply humans who don't like to talk to people who don't matter.
The popular ones, the fabulous ones.

What defines what is 'popular' anyway?

We're not.

And even if somehow, some of us become so, (you there) we never thought of being so.

And even then, it doesn't matter, does it?

Becoming popular does not mean you have changed.
It just means more people acknowledge that you're existing.
And look forward to seeing you.

It also does not mean you always reciprocate that. (Mental xD)

And the kind of people we are- we like to shout our hearts silly to people who at least strike the same chord as us.
People on our orbits, or who we orbit, they're much too intimate to even decipher. They already share our very soul, our very wavelength.

People like those- however few- are treasures. Diamonds. The ones who share a chord are gold. Silver, platinum, your choice.

That's why people are astonished when we tell them we are actually quite introverted, if they are in want of a colloquial term.

They can't believe that we- people who are seen in breaks shouting and running and chasing and being silly- can be introverted.

But we are.
And not 'introverted' but a term which we know, and we understand.

And we know what is truly of consequence, and we are true.
And we are different.

But we are human.
Only human.

Pandora's Box.

I'd written a piece long back. I showed it to no one, and deleted it as soon as I was convinced it was bullpoopy.

Well, rather than piece I'm sure you could call that a note saved in my crappy phone. And that note, I wrote after I came back after witnessing a girl being bullied. And not being brave enough to stand it. Because I was afraid of landing up like that.

Now I realize how brave she is.
And I'm glad she makes an effort to connect with me, so, so glad.

See, thing is, that note went somewhat like this, the thing in which I believe the most:
You don't get to call that fat girl fat.
You do get to call her, however, a person suffering from Prader-Willi Syndrome.

You don't get to say mean things behind that new girls' back even if she wears torn clothes.
Her parents died in the fire that burnt most of her clothes.

You don't get to feel vengeful about the boy with the street look even if he slammed against you and left without a proper apology.
He had three jobs to get to and six mouths to feed.

Wonder how that popular girl keeps smiling without her jaws tiring?
She finds comfort in the fact that no one in school knows the scars on her back.

It feels so good.
To be understood
to be taken seriously.
To live, to laugh,
to hurt, to cry,
but only if your emotions are
treated properly.
Taken seriously.
It feels so good.

Being prejudiced, and being slaves to terms is all part of how we've shaped this world, and how we perceive things. Being open minded is tough, and I don't mean it's 'tough' I mean it's tough.
Don't get me?
How hard is it for our brain to not form presumptions about something?
It is a defense mechanism. If our brain couldn't form a presumption that "Hell yes, this animal is gonna eat me up" we couldn't have survived.

How hard it is, to truly see.
But how wonderful.

The resultant treasure you find is a thing which is simply part of your soul.
I used to not believe in destiny.
Lyra and Will, made me.
Stars, made me.
Stories, made me.
The things that happen everyday, make me.

Oh, I still believe in free will. Yes I do.
It's a contradiction. So maybe it is a paradox. Or again, maybe it's not.

Because you see, the things which are truly of consequence, are seen from the heart.

So even if I do tire of all the misery and melodrama and not enough 'seeing' happening around, I take heart in the fact that the Little Prince was here, and he taught a certain person and a certain fox somethings, which were imparted to us all.

And I go on living because I still have hope.
The only thing which was left in Pandora's Box.

Kaleidoscopes are so beautiful.
You see patterns, you change patterns, you see them as they change.

You don't observe the individual elements that much. You don't see the small pieces of glass or the paper stars and paper circles and paper figures.

All you see is the entire picture.
And the entire picture is so resplendent.
So magnificent.

That's what matters.
That's all there is of consequence.
The entire picture.
But as humans, we do examine the individual elements because those elements are what happen to us everyday. And as we go through each day, dealing with those elements, perhaps to forget later, we at least see those elements in their entirety.

And if we do our best, give it our best shot, to those individual elements; if we continue to capture the entire picture by giving our best shot to each of those little things, perhaps when we grow up and have time to reflect on all that happened, we will see the entire picture.

And because of the individual elements we were so diligent in working upon, the picture we will see will not be just resplendent, but also lambent.

The magical, lambent of the stars is so because of the individual elements which smash all their elements and compounds to burn brighter, now is it not?

Why not give everyday a shot.
Why not live instead of just dreaming.
Dream a little and work a little.
Charm a little and play a little.
Live a little. Die a little.

Love a little.
Gaze at the stars a little.