love letters to introverts

i.

To the boy who prefers spending Friday nights at home:

the world does not understand how beautiful silence sounds
sometimes. 
As you crack open that book you've been waiting to read,
  or plug in your computer,
    or listen to music,
      or, 
         or, 
            or, 
or maybe just stare at the night sky from your bedroom window-
(please) remember what everyone else seems to forget;
that being alone does not always equal lonely--
and that sometimes no company is the best company there is. 

ii.

To the girl who does not speak up in class: 

I was once you. 
You are not deficient, I promise, despite everyone telling you otherwise. 
You might be the only one who will ever know the universes 
tucked inside your head, 
because they are beautiful secrets you cannot bring yourself to share,
for fear that they might be vandalized. 
When you speak, it is a whisper, 
like a dandelion, like a feather, like your mother tucking you in at night 
after you have fallen asleep. 
People will tell you to speak up, speak louder,
but keep that beautiful dandelion voice of yours, 
because you must know that
volume isn't always necessary to be heard, 
and that the ones who really want to hear you (the ones who really matter), 
will. 

iii. 

To the introverts: 

Too often, we hate ourselves for not being enough.
For not being loud enough,
for not being assertive enough,
for not speaking enough,
for not going out enough,
I want to tell you that you are
really,
truly,
enough. 

(I promise.)