I distant myself from people. I never go where the crowd goes. Not because I’m shy or insecure about the possibility of being out of place, but because what I long for is usually never found in the crowd.
I don’t like small talk. It usually drains me, making me charge myself back through introversion. I long for a real conversation. A deep one. An intellectual sort of talk. For me, socializing involves just one person and me, a cup of coffee, make that extra large if not refillable, a good ambiance, and long hours of just sitting there around the table.
What appeals pretty for me is almost non-physical. I’m more interested on what lies beneath the surface. I’m more on how a person speaks his mind, and on how he expresses his hidden self out.
I am fascinated by human behaviour. I am fascinated by the massive submerged part of human iceberg. I am fascinated by the strange patterns that differentiate every single person.
Every single person has an untold short story. Every single person has Moons, rivers and unfinished chapters. Every single person has a past that built his present. Every single person has a little nook filled with dreams and regrets.
I want to know what’s on someone’s subconscious. Someone’s makes and breaks; and, the reason why someone’s doing the shit he’s doing. I want to know someone’s overt and covert behaviour. Those that are known and unknown to the self. I want to know where someone’s mind goes when it wanders; and, which part of the world attracts him once I hand over a globe.
Surfacing through humanity wouldn’t take me any further. Yet, diving through someone’s ocean of hidden worlds takes a lot courage. I guess, I’d rather have a share of the latter than just by simply asking, “Hi! How are you?” Then get nothing at all after he replies, “Good!”