i never waste the rindcheese
We can hear them walking. Short, small steps. The hallways echo from them talking aloud amongst themselves. I sit in the shadows, lurking, waiting for the noise to dissipate. I’m tired of the voices, of these people. Asserting their position with their volume and their mouths wide open. Big gaping holes screaming with laughter, arms flailing to their sides. Express it out loud to affirm that it is all real. That you mean what you say and say what you mean. If only they took a moment to look around they’d notice that I’m still here, getting stepped on and ridiculed. We are equals but I’ll never be one of them. And they all say, we have to be one of them to stand in the light. But I sit in the shadows. They move where ever the light goes. Down the hallways, short, small steps.
“All this talking, this rather liquid confessing, was something I didn’t think I could ever bring myself to do. It seemed foolhardy to me, like an uncooked egg deciding to come out of its shell: there would be a risk of spreading out too far, turning into a formless puddle.”
- Margaret Atwoodpersonal writings on the wall
Spend your free time the way you like, not the way you think you’re supposed to. Stay home on New Year’s Eve if that’s what makes you happy. Skip the committee meeting. Cross the street to avoid making aimless chitchat with random acquaintances. Read. Cook. Run. Write a story.
— Susan Cain, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking (via 27sailors)