I feel dumb.
This train of thought began as I pondered how my shyness affects others. If I relegate myself to one-word answers when I communicate with others, then these people do not want to talk to me anymore. I might do this for a simple reason, i.e. because I’m sad, but a lot of of the time I really have nothing to say. I don’t hate the person I’m talking to, nor do I not appreciate their company, I just don’t feel comfortable speaking more than a few words at a time. I’m a quiet, shy person, and unfortunately this all too often speaks for itself, telling others things about me that I don’t want to expose. I don’t hate others just because I don’t talk to them, but this is apparently what my silence conveys. The human race is inherently talkative and I am not. The world defines my character based on what others perceive I should be because I do not take it upon myself to do so. I am not my own person, I am someone else’s person to create, modify, destroy. My character is perpetually changing into the result of others’ criticism and skeptical conclusions. I am the pre-assigned monosyllabic word to others’ self-written novels describing their person. I do not live my own life, I am a small piece of someone else’s.
I am but an extra in the eccentric script of another’s tumultuous life. My presence does not help or hinder the protagonist, but rather provides them with the significance they desire and the knowledge that they are a three-dimensional character in a meaningful place. Fate gives it this significance but the free will of others drives it. It is because I am in this position that I am not permitted to be the protagonist of my own life. People will continue to write my story for me and I will sit back and allow it.
At least, this is how I feel it happens now. This is how others tell me it happens through their actions and their scathing perceptions of me without knowing me. This is, I fear, how it will continue. I don’t feel ready enough to change and show the world that I may take control of my life. In the journey that is life, it appears that I am already irreversibly lost. My words will never emerge from the sea of the outspoken. I will drown in their success and no one will ever see me again. Though, all facts considered, it does not seem that anyone ever did.