the writer. 

I confess that I often wonder if I am a no-fun kind of person – especially when I find myself having to talk myself (every damn time) to attend large-scale and/or networking events. I would always go (and hate myself for always end up going) only to constantly feel out of place no matter the event and what would always strike me are people whom I’d learn through such an event to be the (surprising and unpredictable) outgoing and/or talented type – natural emcees, singers… performers.

When I think of my talent – as these individuals would unleash theirs in dinner parties and the like – I am reminded yet again just how much mine has no space in such a setting; in fact, mine doesn’t take up any. Similar to these folks belting out tunes or moves on stage, I am expressive too – but my talent, unlike theirs, requires neither sound nor stage. In my mind I am thus invisible and would stand out only for the wrong reasons; too quiet.

What I am best at is loud – but not in their way.

I am expressive – but not in their way.

I confess, however, that I do not know how to be them do it their way because my talent is attuned to the person that I am – an introvert and an individual. My brand of courage roars too – but only I hear it. To express ‘I write‘ in itself is uneventful; solitary; quiet; and deeply personal. My writing is a strength that is unearthed to only a privileged few.

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