Writers 
Being an introvert can be quite tough, especially if you are my kind of introverted self.
It’s a very specific brand of existence where your personality feels like a constant tug-of-war, and you constantly have to issue disclaimers about how your brain actually operates.
People do believe that ambiverts exist, but I don't. Well, except you've done your MBTI test and it gives you a precise 50% split on both introversion and extraversion, which is terribly, statistically unlikely.
For the rest of us, there is always a dominant side pulling the strings, even if the percentage split looks like a close race.
Being 57% introverted and 43% extraverted, it is always a proper job to explain to people that I am actually an introvert. That 7% margin might look small to an outsider, but it carries the entire weight of my social battery.
Even without taking the MBTI test, I always knew deep down in my bones that I was an introvert. It’s in the way I process the world, the way I recharge my mind, and the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion that hits after too much social stimulation.
I get really shy when meeting new people, won't start a conversation first with a stranger, and vastly prefer staying indoors to watch movies or sing along to my Spotify playlist.
My bedroom is my absolute sanctuary.
Give me a quiet weekend, a cozy blanket, a good storyline on screen, and my favourite music, and I am in complete paradise.
Wandering into unfamiliar territory or making small talk with people I barely know feels like navigating a minefield without a map.
Now, here is the real kicker — the exact thing that makes people scoff and go, "Ah, pull the other one, you are definitely not an introvert!"
Despite being quiet or reserved in a foreign gathering, I turn incredibly playful, loud, and downright chaotic the moment at least 10% to 20% of the room consists of my inner circle and I'm sitting right beside them.
It’s as if a completely different gear engages in my brain. The chatter, backed by the safety net of my friends, can even prompt me to engage with someone new so they don't feel left out, or I might even start the conversation myself!
When my people are near, my social anxiety evaporates because I feel secure enough to let my actual personality shine through.
Because my close friends are quite well-known, outgoing, and somewhat popular, both in my workplace and outside that space, they never fail to throw me into the spotlight or encourage me to lose my inhibitions so others can see my chaotic side.
They know the unhinged, hilarious, high-energy version of me, and they take immense pleasure in dragging that version out for the rest of the world to witness. They will drop me right into the centre of a joke, pass the mic to me metaphorically, and sit back to watch the show.
To many onlookers, I seem well known — someone everyone can easily spot, who is proper funny and lively whenever I am surrounded by my mates. I get tagged as the life of the party, the energetic friend, or the person who always brings the good vibes.
Then, when I casually mention I am an introvert, all hell breaks loose!
People outside my inner circle immediately bring up a million and one arguments to prove why there is no way I could possibly be one.
They point at my laughter, my banter, and my willingness to make a scene when I’m with my people, completely oblivious to the fact that it takes days of solitude to build up that kind of social energy, and twice as long to recover from it.
