The highest form of introversion
is honesty within
Introversion is not some fancy word that can be hijacked by hipsters or people who find a niche in their lives just because they had a moment with themselves.
It’s a deep seated brutality of honesty that you cannot escape from. It clutches at you with the grip of a giant, crushing your soul as the Sufi’s say like a cardamom seed, only fragrant when squashed.
It is like the leaves of a citronella tree, bland looking, simple leaves but when rubbed together fragrant the room with an unmistakeable scent of lemon verbena, leaving the hands you rubbed with, stained with its fresh notes.
It is not a means of defence for disengagement and monasticism. The intimacy with ones self, bares a responsibility of sharing,
otherwise the word is not introversion, the word is selfishness.