It’s super hard to be an introvert, you guys. We totally don’t like parties and stuff, and casual small talk? Forget it, amirite?
Share this on your friend’s Facebook page and point out which numbers directly apply to you/your friend. Because lists are fun.
1. You haven’t spoken to someone in-person for 15 days.
2. You had to sell your dog because you couldn’t deal with the awkward tension while you pet him.
3. Your favorite thing to do at a party is lie down on the floor in the fetal position, clutching yourself while rocking back and forth.
4. When someone asks you “how are you” you respond by punching them in the spleen.
5. Was that the doorbell? God, I hope it wasn’t the doorbell. Maybe if I just sit here for long enough and keep my head down and don’t look out any windows they’ll go away.
6. When in crowds, you try to physically meld your body into that of the person in front of you; while doing so you shout “As One! As One! As One!” with your eyes closed. Also you take your pants off to do this because everyone knows that’s what introverts do.
7. You can’t look at someone without projectile vomiting onto yourself and others.
8. You just projectile vomited at the thought of having to look at someone.
9. You read lists that tell you how you should behave if you’re an introvert, and because you’re a lazy parasitic pile of monkey shit, you nod your head and actively take up every trait you’re spoon-fed, even if they go against the way you’ve behaved all your life, because you equated “introversion” with “artistry” when you discovered that apparently Michael Jackson was actually a really shy person, and your ability to draw a super life-like tiger is all you have in your cold, arbitrary, and futile existence.
10. Yesterday you set fire to a Jimmy John’s. Today you plan on setting fire to a Quiznos. Potbelly’s however you would never arson.
11. You collect the dust that forms in the corners of your room and mold said dust into tiny “dust people.” Over the years you have amassed enough dust people to form an entire dust community, which you have named “Dust Angeles.” You elected a dust mayor and appointed a dust government. Everyone had a dust job and a dust family and for a long time they lived in dust harmony. But one day there was a terrible dust tornado because you left your window open on a windy day, and the entire dust city was ravaged. People lost their homes, their jobs, everything. Eventually your dust people began to move to the dust community across the state, which is called “Dust Diego.” That made you upset and jealous. So you tried to talk to the mayor, but in typical fashion, he was completely unresponsive. That left you no choice but to begin speaking to the dust mayor’s wife. At first it was just the casual small talk on the street, but eventually you began to meet for lunch…then dinner…then after dinner. One night, as the flames of desire burned in her eyes, you took her. The love you made was indescribable, as if you both flew through the rings of Saturn and back again; you felt her warmth in your arms, the tickle of her hair on your naked flesh. But it couldn’t last. You knew it all along, yet you were still surprised when the mayor appeared at your front door, gun in hand, threatening to blow you to kingdom come, screaming how dare you put your hands on my woman you pale-skinned sonuvabitch. You pleaded for your life, trying to explain, but the mayor was wild-eyed and exploding with rage; he was past the point of reasonable negotiation. And as his bullet entered your brain, you recalled the simple days of you and your father visiting the apple orchards in the fall. You couldn’t have been more than five years old. Your father would help you grasp the apples on the higher branches, cautioning you to not eat them until we’ve gotten home and washed them; there’s germs on them or maybe worms. As your brains splatter the walls of you and your lover’s private motel getaway, you can’t help but taste the tang of a blood-red golden delicious on your lips.
12. Sometimes in class you just pee your pants.