I never understood why I ticked the way I did. I was blinded by split second choices. I wanted to understand something exactly in that moment. I gained a filter over my mouth. I started to have an opinions.

I held most comments at bay, but some things made no sense. This has been true for years. I wanted to be heard. I was a "wild extrovert," but I was surrounded by people who looked at me with perceiving eyes. I couldn't figure it out. Some didn't respond to my challenges. They looked at me with even more curious eyes. They sat at the table without a word. I drove me batty.

Here's my letter to you, dear introvert, I hope it finds you well...

Dear Introvert,

It's okay.

I'm not mad. I may not understand you, but it doesn't change a thing. You process better. You hear more. I'm bit a honest, I'm jealous. Your lack loud expressions and actions don't make you timid. This life, this moment, you've figured out how to hold on tight.

Your moment is soaking it all in.

I wonder what's breezing through the airwaves of your mind. I wish the silent would leave me in such momentarily bliss.

I'm greedy in a way. I sell your silence, take your air. I fill it with the unnecessary, the jokes, the endless conversation that means nothing. I'm sorry. Truly. I never gave you what you wanted.

But I hope this space, this moment, this letter, changes it a bit.

I love you exactly as you are.

Sincerely,

An Extrovert.