I Once Was an Introvert

A Personal Journey to Connection

Photo by on

There was a time in my life when the idea of small talk made my skin crawl. Crowded rooms were my personal zone, and the sound of my own voice in group conversations felt foreign, like it didn’t quite belong. I was an introvert, through and through, not just in the textbook sense, but in the way that lived in the marrow of my daily life.

High school was especially tough. I wasn’t shy; I just never felt the need to speak unless it truly mattered. While others thrived in the cafeteria, I would find solace in the library, tucked between shelves of forgotten paperbacks.

I wasn’t lonely. I loved solitude. But sometimes, I wondered if I was missing out on something essential, some secret rhythm of connection everyone else seemed to dance to so effortlessly.

College cracked the door open a bit. I had a classmate who never met a stranger. The guy could strike up a conversation in an elevator and leave with a dinner invitation. At first, I ignored him. Then, I started to observe. He listened more than he spoke.

When he laughed, it was real, and when he complimented someone, it wasn’t empty flattery; he meant it. I realised he wasn’t faking anything. He was just open. I wasn’t sure if I could be like that, but something in me wanted to try.