I own a lot of Pro-Introvert T-shirts. “I’m not shy; I just don’t want to talk to you.” “I’m not shy; I’m just holding back my awesomeness so I don’t intimidate you.” Or, my personal favorite, “I like to party; and by party I mean stay at home because socializing stresses me out.” Unfortunately, when it comes to me, these are all lies. I am shy, but I would like to talk to you. I am shy, because my “awesomeness” would intimidate you. I like to party, and by party I mean interact with other humans.

My sister is a real, genuine introvert, so I assure you: These people choose not to talk. They are careful about who they let into their circle, because they understand whose worth starting a conversation with and who isn’t. In addition to that, there is me, awkwardly flailing my hand back and forth (waving) when I see the oldest of acquaintances.

Part of the reason must be I’m willing to talk to anyone willing to talk to me. Of course, if I’d just seen this person’s face on “America’s Most Wanted” last night, I’d pass (right after writing down those directions to the nearest train station). However, a cute yet conceited boy? Sure. A beautiful yet brainless girl? No problem. I can be very comfortable around strangers, because A. I’ve never seen them before, and B. I’ll never see them again. “You like ‘Pitch Perfect’? I like ‘Pitch Perfect’!” Now have a nice life.

Put me in front of my old best friend from seventh grade, and you have me panicking. This is someone I used to talk to, make eye contact with on a regular basis. Here is what would go on in my mind: Oh, hi, how are you? Good? Sorry for not addressing your existence, I secretly want to ask how your Chemistry project is going, I really do; it’s just that you’re significantly cooler than I am and, well – Oh God, what were we talking about again?

The thing is, I wasn’t particularly born with that wire in your brain that connects social skills to common sense. I have a feeling if I actually talk to those I enjoy the company of, I’ll erupt in an explosion of awkwardness and gibberish.

You could say I need to be who I am myself, haters gonna hate, all that jazz – but that isn’t the case. I’m honestly bad at formulating thoughts into coherent sentences. It isn’t happening right now, because I have all weekend until this assignment is due, but unfortunately you can’t proofread everyday conversations. Oh, how easier life would be otherwise… Then again, coming up with the wittiest, most sarcastic response isn’t appropriate when your friend’s dog has died. (Yes, I’ve done that before.)

Introverts find their energy in solitude. Extroverts find their energy in socializing. Oddballs like yours truly spend all their energy pondering what to say in the first place. People are simply confusing – oxymoron intended. I won’t go proposing any solutions for humanity’s complexity, as I’m in high school and clearly have no idea what that means. Here’s what I’ll do: Let the world deal with my awkward self. Someday, I’ll have friends I will want to talk to, I won’t mind intimidating with my awesomeness, and I’ll like to party with (and by party I mean invite over to watch “Pitch Perfect”). Who knows, I may even reserve a T-shirt like this for my more confident days: “I’m an extrovert, and I’d like to tell you about it.”