Whether your introversion makes you write odes,
whether you write computer code,
whether your writing looks like an engineered skyscraper,
an exotic car,
a weaving of humanity through the fingers of the third world,
whether you throw yourself into the confines of a cage or between the square ropes and engage in a violence that most people wouldn’t ever dream of,
you’re writing the story of yourself, always writing.
There’s a script in the backdrop of your subconscious that is taking notes on its own. Waking to that realisation will help you manifest a calmness and direction you’ve only ever dreamt of.
The delusion of the world, in missing the point of a passive introvert is a blessing they will perhaps never comprehend.
Some people feel guilt for their passivity,
I’m controlled by a wave of mercy I have towards the undeveloped minds of men who want to remain infantile, by a knowledge I have a deep recession of savagery you’re privy never to experience.
It’s all gravy baby, but you’re still lucky I don’t fuck you up.