I Don’t Like People — And I’m Okay With That

Going from extroverted-introvert to plain old introvert

It’s 4:48 a.m. here in Maryland, and I’m doing what I love to do best.

I’m writing down my innermost thoughts so they don’t harass me throughout the day, sipping a cup of delicious caffeine, and listening to old jazz on Music Choice.

Ahhhhh…Thelonious Monk.

I do all of this while lying down — alone.

I’m in Heaven.

Some of you may have an office where you can go to write, I assume.

In my mind’s eye, I always pictured adjourning to my study, surrounded by a library of great literary references in my leather chair, so I could feverishly peck away at the keys with circles of pipe smoke wreathed around my head.

I don’t have a library or a study — and I hate pipes.

I don’t even have a leather chair.

It’s just me in my bed, propped up on a couple of pillows, rejoicing that the world is dark and quiet — and no one else is around.

I’ve been writing on Medium for a little over a year, and at first, I felt guilty for enjoying this time alone so much — but now I wallow in it.