Dear Introvert

writer. creative soul. black sheep.


January 2015

heart shaped box.



“It was all a mirage;
everything I saw,
it wasn’t really there.”

My heart is a prison. I’m trapped inside this beating fortress of muscle and blood. I see things that aren’t really there. I believe things that aren’t really true. I turn reality into imaginary. Delusional. All is lost in a single beat. There’s a hole in the wall, a chamber malfunction. Bad blood mixes with good. Atrial Septal Defect. Ebstein’s Anomaly.

I swear it’s defected.

The doctor tell me it’s normal.

Well fuck you Dr. Know Nothing because my heart has caused more problems in my life than any other organ I have. Sure girl, consciously kill your liver (what has it ever done to you?!) and just let your heart go on shit storming your life up.

Give me a transplant please. I want a black heart, one that doesn’t feel. I want one with a faulty lock, with a crooked hinge, an uneven seal, whatever the damage might be that allows me to escape from it. I don’t want to be trapped inside the one I was born with anymore.

I used to watch The Vampire Diaries. Envious of the characters Damon and Stefan and their ability to turn their feelings off, shut them down, forget they ever had them at all. Emotionless vampires meandering through immortal life without a care in the world. The inability to feel anything on purpose and at will – – now that would be awesome, wouldn’t it? Running through a field of wild flowers, spinning in circles, in an obnoxious girly-girl dress screaming, “look at all the fucks I give!!!!” And there would be none. For real. I wouldn’t have to fake it, I could literally stop feeling. It would be glorious.

An obscene level of familial dysfunction – – as if it is seven of the most dramatic soap operas wrapped into one family… don’t care. A detached lover? Don’t care. Drowning in bills? Still don’t care. Ramen Noodles for lunch every day for the last three weeks when you’re closing in on 30 years old? So what? Chemical plastic shaped like pasta all day ‘errrrday bitch. Not a worry in the world that these noodles are causing a slow gastric death seeping toxic waste into my mucous membranes and the fact that every package could outlive a nuclear blast.

Emotions can’t touch me.

Just kidding.

I feel everything.

There is no emergency shut off valve.

But a girl can dream.

I bear the Zodiac sign of the crab. This makes me an internal emotional roller coaster. Crabs feel EVERYTHING. Even other people’s emotions. Many Cancers are unable to distinguish the difference between their feelings and those they sense in others. I know I can’t. It’s overwhelming sometimes. It can be energy zapping. As if your emotions and my emotions formed a giant octopus that attached itself to my face. Tentacles smothering, airways constricting, a strange slurping sound, sucker cups sucking – – the life right out of me.

They say we Cancers are tender at heart, family oriented, we consider our homes to be our retreat: we need order and calmness to reign there so we can recharge after a hectic day, we’re home bodies, kind, intuitive, dependable, action taking, persistent, artistic, creative and excellent workers and providers. But we’re also fearful of rejection, resentful, unforgiving, and angry.

It’s all true.

All this Zodiac mumbo-jumbo brings me to this ::

Recently, on 01/09/2015, Lindsay Holmes posted an article in The Huffington Post called 6 Toxic People Who May Be Sabotaging Your Happiness. Number five? The person/people who USE you.

Holmes writes, “We don’t have room in our lives for people who take advantage of us. Helping each other is one thing, but if the favors are always one-sided, it might be time to address the situation.”

If you’ve read the above, you could see how easily a crab might be used. I try to be kind. Always. There’s a difference between being nice and being kind. I’m not normally nice per say. I could be a bitch. But damn it, I am kind. I will offer a helping hand to those in need, strangers, co-workers, friends, practically anyone, doesn’t matter who.

I try to be dependable. I will come through for you if you need me. I never go back on my word unless some really crazy shit happens to derail my promise. Whether it’s love, work, help, advice or even money… though I usually end up regretting this one since I honestly don’t a pot to piss in, but still, I find myself giving away what I don’t have, because you need it, because you need me.

Action taker. Yes I am. I am always ready to spring into action. If I get a plan, idea, notion, anything in my head, I’m quick to dive right into it. And I’m persistent as fuck. I never give up. But sometimes, that’s not always a good thing. At least not in this case. I haven’t given up on all of you yet.

When it comes to my family, they’re repeat offenders, charged with using me time and time again. And every single time, there I am:: listening, offering, listening, giving, listening, driving, listening, donating, listening, believing. And with each time – the lies, the manipulation, the bullshit, the asking, the taking, the draining… it cuts a little deeper and soon the wounds won’t close anymore. When is the end? When will it stop? I’m giving so much of myself sometimes that I can’t get back to the me I was before.

I become bitter. Resentful. Angry.

The crab in me wants to sharpen my pincers and take off a toe or two, maybe some fingers, maybe more. You take my soul, I start taking your extremities.

Harboring anger and bitterness morphs you into a tea pot ready to blow, whistling your resentments and spraying your scalding water on the innocent. It contradicts all the good traits I have. And instead of making me upset, knowing this only makes me angrier.

You know I’d believe you if one more time you told me you loved me and were proud of me. Asking me “how I am doing” like you mean it. Feed me just enough bullshit to lay your trap. And I’ll walk right into it. Again and again. A leaf covered spear pit. It’s not in my nature to ignore you if need my help. It’s not in my nature to back down. It’s not in my nature to not always seek the good in people, the good in you.

But what if there isn’t any good?

Any good at all.

Not anywhere.

Not an ounce, not a sprinkle, not a pinch.

Psycho narcissistic sociopath.

You depend on my dependability.

You drink my kindness until you are drunk off of it.

You build the dollhouse exterior to conceal your house of horrors.

You invite me in.

I’m tangled in the web of your puppet strings.

I drank your fucking Koolaid.

Might as well pour me a double.

Cyanide.. antifreeze.. Draino, whatever.

Pick your poison.

Family is family. It’s hard to cut the ties that bind. Blood is thicker than water. Supposedly. I don’t know which time will be the time I say enough is enough, but I hope it comes soon.

But I hope there never comes the time when I learn to shut down my emotions, to stop my heart. To let the anger blacken it until it’s charred and merciless. Then my dedication, my action taking, my creativity and my persistence might mean something different entirely to you. I’ll have an inside that mirrors your own. But I guarantee it’ll be uglier.



former self.
former self.
-turn and face the strain-
don’t want to be a richer man
-turn and face the strain-
Just gonna have to be a different man
Time may change me
But I can’t trace time
– David Bowie



Rarely embraced, forever feared – – by most.

CHANGE – as defined by Webster : to become different

: to make (someone or something) different

: to become (someone or something) else

‘Tis the season of change. A brand new year, a chance to start over. The month of January – filled to the brim with resolutions that people throw around like they’re Santa Clause on a firetruck flinging popcorn balls to awaiting children on the streets. (I used to love that. Not Santa. The popcorn balls.)

“New year, new me!”

I smell bullshit.

At least in my case. Promises, promises. Promises to yourself, promises to other people, promises people make to you. I could drowned in promises not kept by others and by my self. I bet you could find them all wherever all those left socks end up when they’re missing from the dryer.

I don’t see why we feel the need to announce to everyone what our “resolutions,” are, if we make them at all. Air them out like dirty laundry on social media and to our friends and family. I keep mine secret just in case I end up resolving shit, which 99.9% of the time is what usually happens.

RESOLUTION, as defined by Webster

: the act of finding an answer or solution to a conflict or problem

: the act of resolving something

: an answer or solution to something

Change is usually necessary in order to make complete a resolution. One would assume so. Change your eating habits, change your daily routine, change yourself. Do more of this, less of that. Seek happiness. Make improvements. Spend more time with your family, find what your passions are, and the “resolutions” go on and on in variations that are individual to every person. But it all comes down to one thing: CHANGE.

We are creatures of habit which makes change difficult.

Small changes that alter your life in little increments are easier to endure. No one wants to overdose, not even on change. Eat one to two more healthy meals a week, pick up a gym session, schedule “me” time in your planner, read more books, crochet a sweater, put more emphasis on a quality get together with your best friend, etc.

But I’m not talking about eating more vegetables here. Or picking up a new hobby. I’m talking about the great fear. Change(s) you have to make that you know might break your heart. Changes that could mean failure, disaster, and that ugly word: regret. So you hesitate. This hesitation lasts days, then weeks, then months, then years and suddenly you forget how much time has passed, that is, until you’re face to face with another new year where nothing at all has changed and you are left wanting, or angry, or just stupefied.

This January is just like any other for some people. But not me. This is the new year where I realize I’ve hesitated for far too long, waiting for something or someone else to change. But -it- or -they- have not. There will be no package left on my doorstep from UPS addressed to me, labeled “change” in which I can open to alter my life. A box that comes with step by step instructions on what to do and when, a “Making Changes for Dummies” manual. If only it were that easy. But it’s not. I can’t wait any longer. I’m being torn in two.

To truly resolve, one must find an answer or solution to a conflict or problem. What if my conflict is that I’m a walking contradiction? What it my problem is that it feels like my soul is dying? How do you resolve that? What if the answer to my solution means changing something I don’t want to? What if it means taking drastic measures because these are drastic times? What if I can’t? What if I won’t? Because it’s going to break my fucking heart doing it. I know it. But it could also save my life in the end. I know that too.

I say one thing, I’m doing another.

I believe this, but I’m doing that.

I trust in my gut, but I ignore the fuck out of it.

I won’t tolerate bullshit, but I allow bullshit to dictate my life.

I don’t make promises I can’t keep, but I allow people to break theirs to me.

I value strength and courage, yet I make decisions out of weakness.

This is my harsh reality. We’re too soft on ourselves if you ask me. We don’t give ourselves the credit we deserve when it comes to the courage that lives inside of us all.  I can hear you say, “Hey, give yourself some credit. You’re doing the best you can.” Am I? Am I really though? It’s easy to give in. It’s easy to give up. It’s SO DAMN EASY to settle. Easy to not try at all. But I want the fight. Where is it?

I’m looking in the mirror thinking, “Wake the fuck up. Don’t be a pussy. You see what you see, feel what you feel and you know what you know and yet you do NOTHING. What the hell is wrong with you?” Be the beast inside you or become the ghost behind you.

I’m living with an internal v.s external struggle. What I feel inside is not what I am doing. Not at all. Remember in the post before this one where I said listen to your conscience, your inner voice, your gut? Well, it’s blowing one of those emergency lost-in-the-woods whistles at me that’s bursting my eardrums. It has lit a blinding flare that never goes out and is so close to my face that the sparks burn my skin. It tugs at my brain, trying to pull it up and over the cliff it hangs off of but it can’t – – because my brain is holding onto my heart trying to save her life too, trying not to let her break into a million pieces. It’s too heavy to save both so my brain must decide.

Brain, you must let go of my heart, let it fall.
Let it bust and bleed.
Let it pump out what it has inside that’s holding me back.
Let it beat for the last time the things I need to release.
Let it die.
Let me die.

And hopefully the electric shock of voluntary change will bring it and me back to life.


I need to find that inner peace. I’m in a state of unrest. And if I don’t do something now, then when? If it’s one one thing you take away from reading this post, it’s this ::: only you have the power to make positive or negative change in your life or you can simply stand still. The decision is always yours first and foremost. If you’re in this life together with someone else, they can come along for the ride, or you can take a trip with them, but ultimately it is YOU who decides your inner happiness and how you will find it. It has always been you. This person might be a small or immense part of that happiness but you hold its true worth internally, inside of you.

If you life your life for someone else, it’s not living, unless you both are in sync with one another.

If you wait for someone else to change, you are going to die waiting.

You can’t save other people. They have to save themselves.

If they won’t, they’ll take you down with them.

If you must settle for something less than your best life and your truest self, you are going to miss your calling, everything you were meant to be, everything you were meant to do.

Life gives you detours.

Life gives you rocky roads.

Life gives you traffic jams.

Hell, life might even throw out a spike strip or two out in the middle of the road and flatten your tires.

But life never puts out concrete barriers.

Only you are responsible for the imaginary road blocks you can’t drive through.

Remember that.

So whether it’s starting over, chasing after your dreams, going for the career chance of a lifetime, moving to a completely new town or even a new state, leaving a relationship, starting a new relationship, going on a vacation, quitting a $150,000/yr job for a $40,000/yr one because you’re home more and the job you’re doing finally makes you happy.. whatever it is, big change or small, do it. Because you can. Because you want to. Because you know what you need to do.

Don’t be afraid.
Live your best life.
Be your true self.
It’s never too late.
And yes, I resolve to follow my own advice. Really and truly.

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑