I'm an Introvert, and That's Okay

As a child, I’ve been told I was quite wild. I was outgoing and joked a lot. I’m not sure what happened to that kid. Maybe my parents are confusing me with some long lost triplet I used to have. Maybe that kid died.

If you remotely know me, you probably have an inkling that I am an introvert. I’ve been an introvert as long as I can remember. I’m the kid who, in sixth grade, almost had a panic attack while reading a story in front of his English class. I was the kid who never liked to raise his hand and ask questions in front of the class; I always waited until after the lesson had ended to ask my questions privately. I was the kid bullies targeted because I wouldn’t talk back.

Being an introvert sometimes means you are susceptible to bullies, or at least I was in middle school. My worst bully once said the reason I didn’t talk to people was because I thought I was better than everyone else, that I didn’t want to stoop to everyone’s level. I never thought that. Heck, in middle school, I felt the exact opposite, my self-hatred making me believe that I was human scum. Bullies only exasperated my angst. I think the real reason I was targeted was because I was seen as meek, easy prey. I was too polite and bashful to stand up for myself, and, at the time, I didn’t have very many friends to help me. Even then, I would have been mortified to ask for assistance. But, still remaining an introvert, I overcame my bully issues in high school; I no longer gave them the satisfaction of demeaning me. The funny thing was, as soon as I stood up for myself, I became invisible to them, like I had outrun the predator to the point where he wasn’t interested anymore. It felt good, empowering even. It was a tough thing to do, so I don’t throw it out there lightly for other introverts to try, but if you do find the courage to stand up to your bully, you won’t regret it.

Another misconception about introverts is that we hate people. I wouldn’t say I hate people (to counter, I wouldn’t say I like everyone either, ex. my bullies, but that’s not the point). College introduced me to a world of student organizations and classes with peers of similar mindsets; suddenly, I became a social butterfly. I may be shy and uncomfortable around people I don’t know, but I enjoy talking with my friends and hanging out. Sometimes hanging out can just be a friend and me sitting in the same room, playing two separate video games than each other and barely talking. Furthermore, I was part of a club in college where we did nothing but sit in a quiet room and watch anime every Sunday night. It’s a refreshing experience, being social and not social at the exact same time. But I also don’t mind throwing a party of some sort every once in a while. I value my alone time a lot more than social interaction, but even I get lonely.

The other day at work, I probably said less than five sentences the entire day, and I loved every single minute of it. I wasn’t being rude to my coworkers. I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t afraid to talk. Being quiet made me feel at peace, an almost state of zen. If I have to talk, I will, and if I want to talk, I will. That’s a difference I’ve realized over the years. At first, I was simply afraid to talk to anyone (I still am, but to a lot less of an extent). Now I choose not to talk out of the comfort that being quiet gives me. It almost sounds like the same thing, doesn’t it? Choice is the key difference.

I know humanity is a social species; it’s part of our process of survival. I don’t see personal bubbles as a way of confining people, but merely a different way of interacting with the world. We don’t have to be friends with everyone we meet as much as we don’t have to be enemies. But those few people who we deem worthy to be our friends respect our comfort zones and help us when we’re in trouble. Likewise, I do the same thing for my friends whenever possible. Introverts aren't complete hermits who shun society and everyone in it. I do see how paranoid and untrusting being introverted might appear, but we don’t let just anyone into our personal bubbles.

Being an introvert isn’t something to be cured (“come out of your shell,” as the saying goes). It isn’t something to be hated. You shouldn’t feel bad for the kid who prefers to sit alone during lunch. We just like to be alone to our thoughts. We like the world within ourselves instead of the noise of the outside world. I used to shun this aspect of myself, but I’ve come to fully embrace it and take comfort from it.

Twins Aren't Creepy or Cute; They're People

I'm on the left. The only way I know is because I loved the red Power Ranger.

I am a twin. 

A fraternal twin, mind you, so don’t get too excited. Being a twin isn’t a big deal, but sometimes people have a strange fascination with them. The spectrum ranges from creepy, like the twins from The Shining, to an outright fetish. In between the spectrum, twins are marvels, illusions with physical forms.

Back in the days of yore, my twin brother and I were walking twin stereotypes: same clothes, same haircut, same room, same initials. Even though we weren’t identical, we looked close enough alike that it didn’t really matter to people. “Oh, look at the twins!” I could hear people exclaim, like we were some kind of zoo exhibit.

Being a twin is a gift and a curse, though it has gotten better the older we have gotten and the farther we get from looking the same. On the one hand, you get this partner in crime who goes through the same development as you at the exact same time. Depending on your relationship with your twin, you are either best buds or mortal enemies. The worst part, well, is the world’s reaction to twins.

Who is older?

Do you have a twin language?

Are you two just alike?

Have you ever switched places with each other?

Which one is the evil one and who is good?

Can you talk to each other telepathically?

I wish I had a twin.

Sure, if you want to be made a spectacle. I think I would have felt better as a twin growing up without people gawking and asking asinine questions.

Sure, there were ways we tried to get around the confusion and awkwardness. In elementary school, my brother and I wore shirts with our respective names stitched on them. During school photos, our parents made us wear the same clothes, but if his hair was sticking up, I’d make sure to flatten mine. During recess, we separated from each other, making our own friends.

These changes increased drastically as we grew older, changing our wardrobe from each other along with our body image. If you look at my brother, he is bald and fit, whereas I am overweight and have hair (though it is thinning at a drastic rate, so I might have to copy him sooner rather than later). At our cores, we are very similar, but, at the same time, quite different.

Something we can’t change (well, we can, but it sounds like a huge hassle) is our names. For parents of twins, triplets, quadruplets, and so on who think it’s cute to give your children rhyming names or names starting with the same letter (or worse, the same name but with a different spelling ex. Jon and John), I have to tell you something: it isn’t cute. It will never be cute. It makes being a twin a little bit more complicated.

For example, my brother and I share names beginning with the letter T. Furthermore, we have the exact same initials. Though we look much different these days, people still stumble over our names. They say they can tell who is who, but, because our names begin with the same letter, they trip over it. Go figure. And I can’t say how often my brother or I have gotten an assignment back in school that was meant for the other brother.

Not only is it demeaning, but it reinforces identity issues. Instead of being individuals, twins are seen as two people who share the same identity. Or worse, perhaps more from a fraternal perspective, one of the twins can develop an inferiority complex, feeling like a failed copy. I’ll admit it; I had those feelings while going through middle school and high school. I felt like my brother was better at everything, had more friends than me, and looked better than me, which only led me to wonder why I even existed.

I remember a certain moment with great clarity. I was in biology class in high school. I was working on an assignment when I overheard two people a few seats behind me talking. I can’t remember the exact topic, but I do remember they were talking about my brother and me.

Boy 1: Which Trosper was it?

Boy 2: Does it matter?

I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t. That tiny bit of dialogue hurt me to my core. Are we not individuals? Twins aren’t clones or emotionless robots. We think our own thoughts, emote our own emotions, and speak with our own voices. Twins are their own people, whether you think of them as the same person or not.

Through it all, my brother and I have had each other’s backs. I know, it’s one cliché of many, but I freely admit my brother is my best friend. Though we are alike, our differences help us get along. We’re adults now, and though we live together for the moment, you never know what will happen one of these days. In all honesty, I am a little afraid to think about life without him. As Gene Belcher from Bob's Burgers would say, we live our lives from the womb to the tomb. Besides, the only problem we have to worry about these days is the weird looks we get after having our IDs checked when we purchase alcohol.

In the end, all I ask is, please, if you have twins, know twins, or hope to one day be in the presence of twins, treat them as the individuals they are and not some kind of magic trick.