I’m an Introvert, but That’s a Lie
Ever since I could walk, I thought I had an introverted personality. I avoided interacting with people, and many of the activities my peers enjoyed seemed ridiculous to me. Naturally, because I was introverted. Right? Wrong. I wasn’t introverted. Not then, not now. None of the traits typically associated with introverts exist in me. In fact, in most of the tests I’ve taken recently, I scored as extroverted rather than introverted.
The reason I realized this paradox between my belief and reality comes down to the fact that for a while now, I’d rather have a truck run over me than read a few pages of a book. Apart from two years of compulsory military service, when I had no choice, I’ve never been a bookworm. My Kindle has long been just an archive for things I want to read. But the moment I hit the button, I stare at the pages and my mind drifts anywhere but what’s written.
A little projection helps untangle this paradox. The truth is, I’ve always been very extroverted. It’s just that the environment I grew up in, combined with my family’s efforts to prevent me from becoming like the people around me and their subtle influence on my thinking, made me see myself as different. This mindset has stayed with me until today.
You might ask, now that you know where your thinking comes from, can’t you change it? The truth is, even asking that question makes me feel different. There’s no space for the question itself; this mindset is hidden in the basement of my mind, and access to it is strictly Read-Only. End of prose.
This sense of being different didn’t leave me in adulthood either. What’s more painful is that I’ve never been able to determine if the problem is me or the people around me. It sounds childish: everyone’s bad, I’m good. But there are places in the world where that statement is very true. If you feel different in a methadone prison, you’re completely justified. What matters is that your differences or similarities with your environment shouldn’t become your main concern or prevent you from living a normal social life.
Twice in my life, I’ve been able to fully control my moments, actions, thoughts, behavior, everything. Once before military service, and once before migration. Both times, the biggest events a person could experience destroyed it all. The regret for those days, that willpower, and the power of choice wrestle within me every day and night. Back then, everything felt more intense. For example, “Vazgectim” by Taksim Trio played inside my cells, not just in my ears.
Comments
منم تازگی ها خیلی درگیر اینجور تضادها هستم اما خب داره خوشم میاد ازشون ... یا شایدم مجبورم که خوشم بیاد 😊
وای چقد شبیه منی، یا چون بزرگتری من شبیه تو ام! :|بهرحال هرچی که گفتی رو دقیقا با گوشت و پوستم حس کردم مخصوصا اون حس تافته جدابافته رو که هردفعه خواستم توی وبم دربارش بگم نتونستم بیانش کنم چون واقعا دلیلش رو نمیدونستم همین حس لعنتی منو بیچاره کرد و باعث شد توی کل 12سال تحصیلم فقط پنج تا رفیق صمیمی داشته باشم و بعضی اوقات اینقد توی کلاس منزوی می شدم که حتی یه نفر هم نبود باهاش حرف بزنم وای که چقد سختی کشیدیم معلوم هم نیست توی دانشگاه میخواد چی بشه
متن زیبایی بود آراز جان. مخصوصا این جمله "آن موقعها همهچیز بیشتر حس داشت." که وصف تغییر حال من هم هست. موفق باشی در همه حال
سلام نوشته تان را دوست داشتم.درمورد وبلاگتان بايد بگم كه خيلي براي من دوست داشتنيه.بخصوص اينكه اين همه سال مينويسيد درست زماني كه من 4 ساله بودم!
ممنونم از اینکه سر میزنید و میخونید.
لطف دارید. ممنون که سرمیزنید.
یه جا خونده بودم که به این جور ادما میگن "دوری گزین" ادمایی که نه خجالتی ان و نه غیر اجتماعی متاسفانه منم این جوری ام