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There are times when I choose introversion over all the other ‘versions of me’. Of late I have been fluctuating between all the possible versions that live inside me, so much so that I’m likely to give the Kerala State Electricity Board (the proprietors of power fluctuations), a run for their money.

Juggling with words like ambiversion, hypo-extroversion, hyper-introversion etc. for a long time now… I realize that they no longer take me anywhere I’d like to go.

Introversion + Extroversion = Ambiversion

Hypo-extroversion + Introversion = Hyper-introversion

Hypo-introversion + Extroversion = Hyper-extroversion

Hypo-introversion + Hyper-extroversion + Introversion + Extroversion + Ambiversion + (!!!) + (???) + (……) + Talking to self + Talking to trees & cats + Wanting to be left alone sometimes + Dancing right in the middle of a dance floor, rare, but that happened too +Talking the crap out of people + Running away from people and conversations + A very very talkative mind + An animated conversationalist + Comfortable with only the right crowd  + Or uncomfortable to a point of irritation + Soft spoken + Hootingly loud + Shouting it out + Barely heard + Invisible or Outright Visible depending on the different wavelengths of light & life = Me = Divergent?!

Yes, a leaf out of Veronica Roth’s book then. A ‘Divergent-me’ I’d rather be.

Now; leaving the labels & tags aside, coming to actually where I had intended to go, let me ask you something. Is it a crime wanting to be left alone at times? How can wanting to be left alone be looked upon as a sign of arrogance? Somehow it is when I long the most to be by myself and have a coffee session with just me, that I get the inevitable coffee table invitation from the last person on Earth, whom I’d want to be with at that point of time! It could be anyone for that matter! Say a polite 'No' to them and Lo...bring forth upon your head the label of a rebel who loves solitary confinement.

Years back there was an old me, who could never dream of hurting a fly with a ‘No'.Many a time I've let myself get washed away by the deluge of pretenses, silently taking in all.  But now the Divergent-me says ‘No’ with a vehemence that offends people, and that might get the Divergent-me into trouble someday too! Perhaps this new found intolerance is a part of ageing. Old age comes with its own filters of inclusion & exclusion maybe. 

Though my refusals & rejections are a tad unpolished and jagged now, with constant practice I believe that I can refine my technique of saying ‘No’. After all I am still goodhearted enough to try and soften the landing a bit for the plane to crash, when I know that it will crash anyway.

Of late I have been on a mission to cut short the amount of blah-blah-blah from my life, and lessen my oral contribution of blah-blah to the world too. (Written blah-blah, will continue to rain here though...& you are welcome to hold an umbrella if you wish not to get drenched by it). The flaunters…the gloaters… the self-flatterers… the self-advertisers… the empty talkers…the trumpeters and the grandstanders shall no longer be tolerated. I might have to plunge into some serious rejuvenating yoga therapy and do some Kukkutasana or Shirshaasana if I ever happen to lend my ear more often to such archetypes.

I am tired of the hogwash…I am tired of the pretensions too. I’ve tried to be nice all my life. But guess that has just been a waste of time. Why be nice, when I have my share of vices too? Why be nice, at the cost of emotionally draining my mind off its peace & calm? I know I cannot change completely all of a sudden. But now that the campaign is on (inside me) I’m hopeful of gathering at least a round-table’s worth of haters who will never ever dream of inviting me over for tea again, as an excuse to blow their own infernal trumpets.

Pic Courtesy: Google