an introvert - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Lucy was an introvert, always preferring solitude over business. If there was a party she was at home, rather than go to a bar she invited her close friends to share a bottle of dry white and appetizers. How she met Ryan no-one was quite sure, how they bonded so tight was just as much a mystery. Him being Mr. Loud and brash. But she gave his something he'd been missing for a long time and he gave her a whole new breath of life. She never minded when he went out with the boys, he loved cosy nights at home with her.
Diyu was a flower in tight bug, always afraid to open and shine her beauty to the world. It wasn't that she feared being ugly, she knew she was not. It was more the fear of a herd animal being told to go out in front. Her heart was strong and her soul was a shining light, both told her she must lead but always her head said "No." Her father could only hope that one day she would open up and let her petals unfurl, and pray that day would would come before the winter frost set in.
I am a strand of wheat in the vastness of the prairies. My colours are as muted as those around me, allowing me to hide in plain sight. With my primate brain I can only ever truly love the friends and family in my small circle, that's just the way we're wired. Yet I still hurt to hear of pain around the world, empathy does not allow me to switch off. I want to reach out, to heal, to bring light where there is dark. But I am a herd animal at heart - just a strand of wheat in the vastness of the prairies and however feeble or shallow my roots are, I need them.
There is something about the shadows that soothe me. My friends are out at a party tonight and I love them dearly - but I need the calm of my softly hued home. It's a haven to me - where my soul rejuvenates. They'd like me to come I know, but they respect my need to potter about making bread and soup with jazz on the radio. I guess that makes me an introvert, and that's alright. We type B's have our positive traits too. I like a drama-free life, good family times, friends, and enough time to be reflective. It's not a long list, but it makes me happy.
Monday to Friday is good for me, but not the evenings, OK? When my man is home I don’t have folks over - not even ones like you who aren’t one hundred percent really here, you know what I mean. You can’t come here in person either, you’re still a “sleeper,” “a zombie,” and if we really met in the flesh you might say something very odd to me, like ask me what the meaning of life is when we hardly know each other, or how I speak in a strange language - these things have really happened! Someone once stopped me talking about pizza to ask me that “did I know that blood stains don’t come off.” Weird, right? Crazy. So I can only have “awakened” people here, ones that aren’t likely to start attacking me verbally or otherwise. Anyway, I’m also an introvert, so knowing tonnes of people isn’t very appealing either. That’s why I’m just taking to just you - one on one. That makes things nice and easy. I can deal with just one extra person. And it helps that you have such a great personality, who wouldn’t enjoy spending time with you?! Do you have another question? Just one more and then I have to get on with my day, alright?
Found in Are You Awake Yet - first draft, authored by .
Graham looked at his phone for the sixth time in four minutes. In his jeans and t-shirt he blended into the scenery as well as the drab store-fronts; but in his mind he was dressed in neon and the passers by observed that Sheila hadn't arrived yet. They were purposeful or chatting to a friend, some drank coffee and others hid behind sunglasses in the almost bright spring morning. As he scanned for her short form, dark hair and trade-mark red jacket some of the eyes turned his way, their faces hard. Then he checked his phone again. No message. It was almost three, the time of their meeting. He resolved next time to meets somewhere he didn't feel like a flag, somewhere he could sit and hide behind an electronic device or newspaper, a cafe perhaps. A black cab pulled in from nowhere, obscuring his view of the underground entrance he thought she would appear from. As he took a step to see past it the door swung open and her thick Irish accent came out, "Get yer arse in here, beautiful..."
Give me green open spaces or the woodland in fall, give me the soft river gurgles and the placid rain. Give me the music of the birds and a winding path, give me sunshine from above and white puffed clouds in the blue. Take away the harsh music of the clubs, keep the whiskey off the ice. Take away the madding crowd and the ringing of the cash registers. Without the worries of the world to hold me down I don't need wings to fly, just lungs of fresh air to let love burst out of my soul. It is the way of the introvert, it is my way.
In my daydreams I turn like a ballet dancer with such grace, my hands outstretched to feel the cool autumn air. These are moves my mind can imagine but my body cannot make. Always as I twirl I am quite alone, enjoying sweet solitude. Other times I am a warrior, defending those I love, a sword in one hand and a shield in the other. Though if I ever were to hold them I wouldn't know how to handle either. In reality I am one who loves all and few, one who would engage every person in conversation if my heart didn't drum with fear at the thought. I live life from the safety of my home, for that is where my heart is, cocooned within the love of a strong family.