This work is of fiction. Any relationship with any real human, dead or alive, is purely coincidental.
That's a line perhaps by-heart for most of people like me! Well, 'me' doesn't necessarily refer to me, but it may also refer to me. That's what an introvert is. The Thinking Man. One who dwells in the mind of his own, thinking the past, present and the future.
His best friends are the books. He learns mostly everything from the books. He shares a parallel world with the books. He associates with the characters of the book, and if the book is damn interesting (and why not?), he may very well write with a parallel story-line.
Happiness to him is himself. Sadness to him is himself. He is the one who lives on his own, and the one who thinks on his own. A thinker. He's a philosopher, he's the geek, he's the knowledge seeker. He knows everything, yet nothing. He has many a friend, but yet no one. He speaks to many, but none hear him. He shares his thoughts, but none receive them.
It is him, the introvert, who silently talks, who silently shares things, who has many friends, and who has a life on his own. No, he doesn't suffer from the multiple personality disorder, but may sometimes get excited at trivial matters, because he observes things, he observes events and finally he observes your life. Still, you don't know much about him.
Wow!! I wrote so much about me, putting down my thoughts in writing, can you still not identify me?
It's the Introvert me.
