From the eyes of an introvert

I gestured towards her to lower the pitch as she entered the library. She bit her tongue as realization dawned upon her. She mocked a thank you. I smiled and returned to reading my favourite author, Mitch Albom. From the corner of my eye, I saw her disappearing to the other corner. One could see the lapses in concentration of a voracious reader. Her voice loomed large on me as I learned she is again in vicinity. I looked up to steal a glance. She was at the counter, issuing a book which was hard bound in maroon. It looked like a course book. The cooler nearby blew her air for the little time she undid her bun. That sight nearly killed me.
In between my glances, her eyes met mine and I almost felt being caught red handed for a robbery. I immediately dug deep into Mitch Albom's classic. The next I saw of her was as a swanky figure vanishing, out there in the sun.

Strangely, I still felt guilty of stealing glances at her. I should have just gone and spoken instead. That's the problem with introverts. We think a lot. We create our own world. We lose the moment sometimes, like the one that went by and then again keep thinking about it. I put a red light to my thoughts and raced to attend a lecture.

Adding to the plight of an introvert, thoughts exhibit that excessive desire for transition to actions. Often, we act out of frustration caused by over thinking, so much so that we are almost awkward. So, I messaged her that evening and I swear that was weird and I wouldn't have done that any other day. Surprisingly, she dealt with ease, the awkwardness I had smeared all around. We chatted for a while and I almost felt acquitted of my act and being caught red handed.

From that day on, we accidentally used to encounter each other. While she was poignant and exuded panache, I felt a lot of unease even in exchanging a greeting. Trust me; I had a lot of attraction and affection to mask. That's again a problem with us, the introverts. We think the world's judging us. Meanwhile, we continued messaging all this while. There I seemed to do alright until one day when I thought I should just let her know what her flowing hair and her mellifluous voice are doing to me. That how her smile casts a spell and how I have begun believing in magic. 

But there was a problem; I didn't know how to do it. Just like all the introverts, the very first idea that came to my mind was writing it out to her. We are good at writing, somehow, most of us. Though I was tempted, I let go off the idea. I knew I would get lost in getting too poetic and too metaphorical in saying things which only need two words from the soul. Life of an introvert is not easy.

I picked up the phone and dialled her. My heart was pounding, probably more than the speed of light. Not that it was any less insane after she picked up the phone but the ring had me killed, well, almost. Breaking the ice, we blabbered about a plethora of things. Simultaneously, in my head, I kept thinking about the right way to put my heart in front of her. As I was in the middle of my world, I realized she has stopped speaking. The silence seemed very awkward and I thought I'd end the call before it got too bad.

As I was done with the final greets before disconnecting, she held me back and said that I was an adorable idiot and that she has fallen for the uncouth demeanour I have on display when we meet. Also that she loved how I felt guilty being caught stealing glances at her and how I struggled to keep inside my happiness when she held my hand the other day. Long story short, she loved how the raw side of me was unabashedly out there in a crucified world.

I kept down the phone and for the first time, the world that I had imagined coincided with what exists. She made me realize there is no right time for love. And also that, life of an introvert is not all that bad, after all.

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This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda