Diary of an Introvert with Cabin Fever: 4/1/2017

Ah, Saturday. One of the best days of the week.

The weather was nice enough again to go on a morning walk around the block. I think these walks have been doing me good. They allow me to stay in the comfort of my own neighborhood but I still get out and get fresh air.

I got started on my homework as quickly as possible because I wanted to enjoy my day. I had to catch up on my Historian’s Journal, and start analyzing the aesthetic of Three Sisters by Anton Chekhov, and make progress in my Marx Brother’s presentation that’s due on Tuesday.

Once all that was done… FREEDOM!

I digitized another of my art pieces in my original art collection “Introversion”. Why do I call it that? Well, it features a fantastical world beyond very ordinary, sometimes slightly unconventional doorways. In other words, they perfectly embody the mind of introverts. On the outside, we seem “quiet”, “shy”, and “ordinary”. Inside, however, we are so colorful. So beautiful. So imaginative. We see the world differently than everyone else.

Now sometimes, this can be both a blessing and a curse. The curse comes when we see the negatives that no one else does. Or the negatives that aren’t even there in the first place. This usually happens to me when the “Cabin Fever” sets in. I replay things that happened ages ago and see problems that never existed before or were even there at all. I pick apart every word that was said to me by someone else. Then I reassemble the words in a different way. Nine times out of ten, the new words and combinations are very poisonous. Still, I think that that is what the person meant. It makes me either incredibly angry or incredibly depressed… either way, I lose sleep… and I already have a hard time getting to sleep because my mind won’t shut up.

But as long as I still get to feel the blessing of having an introverted mind, the curse is so worth it. I have seen beauty in things that no one else sees, and that is good. This literally happened a year ago when I was studying abroad in London. My roommate and I went grocery shopping and we walked by a bar known as “The Church”. I said it was so beautiful. The architecture was my kind of architecture; Gothic. I love everything about the Gothic art style. Still, my roommate gave me a weird look and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone call a bar ‘beautiful’.”

Yes, it’s weird, but it means that I get to see more good in this world than most people do. I can appreciate the smell of old books or marvel at the architecture of a bar. I can sit next to the tombstone of Mary Wollstonecraft and be inspired to write. And no, I’m not kidding.

To some, this is morbid. To me, this is who I am, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

After working on my new art piece, I edited and wrote a new chapter in my book. It’s so good to be doing what I love again. Now I feel like I’m actually living rather than just barely surviving.

Edited by Viveca Shearin

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