Introversion

When I am around a lot of people,
there is a little scribe in my brain
who insists on taking notes,
processing every single interaction.
He is very thorough and writes slowly
with his tiny quill pen on parchment,
stopping frequently to dip the nib.

Social interaction,
especially in a big group,
happens very quickly.
So when he gets too far behind,
he yells out, “Enough!”
(He can be a little rude.)

And suddenly,
it is time to go home.

I slip into bed
but the little scribe continues to write
at his old wooden desk in my head.
He is still processing what happened
hours and hours ago.
Needless to say,
it is a long and restless night.

However,
I wake up refreshed and centered.
He is putting on his wee night cap,
yawning into his sore writing hand
when I check the calendar.

It looks like another busy day,
involving lots of people.
He glares at me with groggy eyes.
“Are you kidding me?!”

Sometimes,
I just have to give
the poor little guy
a break.

By Maria Brady-Smith