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The Curse Of The Introvert
When people look at me, they don’t necessarily see an introvert. The bright clothes, coloured hair and numerous tattoos give people the impression of a social butterfly whose confidence is revealed through personal style.
MY MASK
This is not the case. The people that know me well, know that all of these things are a mask. I mean, yes, they’re my style, and I love my style, but they also give me a mask; something to hide how socially inept I really am.
I remember a while ago, before Covid, I attended the funeral of a lovely lady from the church I used to attend. The service was beautiful and a truly fitting send off, but it also served as a reminder to me of the fact that I am most definitely an introvert.
It sounds shallow, but the struggle I had to find appropriate clothing was intense. It was a traditional funeral, and wearing black was expected. Now, while I have attended funerals before, it has usually been in the winter time, or at least in cooler temperatures than we currently have.
I DON’T GENERALLY WEAR BLACK
You see, I don’t really own black clothing that is also suitable for summer wear. The scene that morning was of me raiding my mother’s wardrobe, in the hope of finding something…
