[Fooglehammer]

Sometimes I wish it was socially acceptable to attend a party and speak to no one, and sit in a chair in the corner watching everyone. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve done this before, but I always get interrupted by people asking why I’m not talking or hanging out or why I’m there, or the more direct but painful looks of contempt and/or pity. As if my presence were somehow going to ruin the party. I just wish there were a private room with a one-way mirror where people like me could sit and just enjoy the marvels and frailties of human nature. There would be an unspoken rule where anyone in the room had to stay silent, except for the occasional sip from their drink or crunch from an item off the party buffet. You would not be allowed to take pictures or film, but journaling and sketching would be highly encouraged (as long as the actual names of the “characters” were changed or the their physical features slightly altered to respect their privacy – and prevent any future beatings or copyright infringement). And above all, no one would be allowed to touch themselves or others in the room. I know that high school parties have become infamous for wild perverted behavior, but the whole purpose of the Viewing Room (as I would call it) would be compromised by such selfish behavior.
The room is not about being alone. You can do that anywhere. The idea is to have a safe place to be with other people, without having to be with other people. I know that this is a subtle distinction, but we are social animals, and no matter how comfortable some people like me are being alone, there are times when we need to feel connected to the human race. The Viewing Room would be more intimate than sitting on a park bench or at a bus stop or in a packed movie theater. The difference would be that everyone would be willing participants in the Viewing Room. The people inside the room would respectfully watch the scene in front of them, while the people actively involved in the party would know full well that they were being watched. It would be like the connection actors in a play feel with their audience, except this would be real life. There would be no script. Of course, some people would edit themselves at first, but as they grew accustomed to the Viewing Room, they would act normally (or abnormally, as the case may be).
I know you are probably thinking this is an odd idea, and to those of you who are fully present in the world, I could see how you might feel this way. But for those of us on the fringe – the outside – this would be our way to join the group….in our own way. I have been called many names, but the one I prefer the most is introvert. I prefer the company of me, myself and I to most people, most of the time. This is a difficult course to sail in life, however. While technology has made it easier to be isolated from society, there is still no healthy way to stay connected to others without making some type of sacrifice to your personal boundaries. There are times when I would like to wear a sign that says “I am open to conversation” on one side, and “Please don’t talk to me” on the other side. Or perhaps there could be colored wristbands that would be universal signs of one’s desire to interact with others or not. I’m open to suggestions.
It’s hard to describe, but there are times (more often than not) when I prefer not to talk, even with the people I love the most in my life. It is not a sign of dislike or unhappiness, but rather an indication of my attitude at that particular moment. For those closest to me, they have begrudgingly learned to accept my “strange” behavior. But for most of the people I am surrounded by on a daily basis, I am quite misunderstood. And that misunderstanding has sometimes led to intolerance, which in some very painful ways has manifested itself as outright hate. And I don’t have a support group to run to, because it runs contrary to the idea of being an introvert. I don’t like being around a lot of people, so how would a support group really help me? Every other label in society seems to have some support group, but introverts stand alone. And there is no medication or therapy for us, because what we are is actually a normal personality type. You are either introvert of extrovert. Unfortunately, extroverts make up the majority of the population. And because they have the loudest voice, and are the most social of our species, they make the rules. It’s not fair, but that’s the way it is. That’s the way it is.
Alright the bell just rang, and I need to figure out where I’m going to hide during lunch. Yeah, you heard me right. The school cafeteria is possibly the most cruel invention of modern society. It is like a zoo without cages, and the animals outnumber the zookeeepers 100 to 1 for one hour every day. If anything happens, there are never enough adults to stop it, and the students know this all too well. In fact, they exploit it and use it to their advantage. The cafeteria is where the herd is separated into the strongest and healthiest animals, while the weak or slow or just different animals are pushed to the edge of the jungle, where they await starvation (jock stealing food), surprise attacks (a milk poured on their head), loss of territory (pushed out of seat), and cannibalism (I won’t describe it, but I’ve seen it happen). And the ironic thing is that the minute we get to college, everything changes. Or so my older sister, Amelia, tells me.
“Hang in there, Oren,” Amelia says with that sad look on her face that clearly says that she is dumbfounded as to how she and I were created by the same parents. I wonder the same thing. She’s pretty, above average in grades, athletic, and most importantly, popular. It doesn’t seem like it’s that important, but in high school, being popular opens doors. Being me closes doors. In fact, they get slammed right in my face just about every day. Amelia can walk through any door she wants to, because there are always about twenty guys waiting there to open it. But I know that service doesn’t come for free, even for my pretty sister. Amelia is what most people would call a “slut.” See, the truth is that there are a lot of pretty girls out there, and to be at the top and be popular, you have to stand out. Amelia learned early on that sleeping with guys was her ticket to fame. So when she says “Hang in there,” I almost want to tell her to do the same. I’ve been through some pretty horrific experiences, but I still have some shred of dignity. Amelia doesn’t have any left, and I’m worried that when college comes, there will just be too many other girls to compete with, and she will finally know what it is like to be me.
Now, my parents are totally oblivious to high school today. Either that, or they have conveniently forgot how brutal life is for a teenager. So whenever I complain about something, they reference one of those feel-good movies where the ugly guy/girl ends up with the most popular guy/girl in school, or they somehow become more popular because they stick to who they are. I’m here to tell you that is pure crap. Those stories are written by adult geeks in Hollywood who want to rewrite their own high school experience. We’re surrounded by these positive messages in movies, TV, and books. But the truth is that popular kids may watch those movies or read those books, but it doesn’t change their behavior. Why would it? They have it all in high school. And by the time they figure out what a waste of time their life has been, they are adults and live in denial of what they were and what they have become. Now that I think about it, I bet that’s what my parents did. They tortured kids like me, but have blocked those memories out. Or maybe I’m a daily reminder of those days. I don’t know. But the same mistreatment I get at school, I also get at home.
“Why don’t you join the football team, son,” my father asks for the millionth time. “What you don’t have in size and strength you can make up with speed and smarts.” He always looks so hopeful when he says it, but I always disappoint him. Why would I want to play on a team filled with the very kids who torment me on a daily basis? And what if I became one of them? I don’t have much too hang on to, but I do have a moral code I try to live by. Being a homicidal jerk is not a part of my code.
Then there’s my Mom who is not so subtle. “Oren, honey, why can’t you be more like Amelia? She has all those friends at school and she is so happy. Don’t you see how those two things go together?” She says this even after half a dozen psychiatrists have said I am a completely normal fifteen year-old kid who happens to be an introvert. But that’s a bad word to her, and she’s still waiting for a doctor to say all the others were wrong. Keep waiting, Mom, cause it’s not gonna happen.
But there is some truth in one thing she says. I know I need friends, but I have gone so long without them that I don’t even remember how to make friends anymore. I know I did it when I was in pre-school, but sometime after that I started to kind of stay to myself. I try to remember how I used to make friends, but it all seems so complicated now. Plus, I hate most of the kids I know. I’m not talking about the jerks who call me names or push me into the lockers. It goes without saying that I hate them. But I hate most of the other kids, too. I hate the ones who sit by and join the herd even when they know it’s wrong.
I especially hate the kids who go out of their way to be so different that they become just another version of the populars. Once those kids with the piercings and spiked hair and black eyeliner have more than three students in their group, they have officially become a power base. In other words, they have enough people to avoid direct attacks from the populars. It’s like when you see a tiger running after a herd of antelope. They chase the herd until one weak, slow, or crippled antelope breaks from the herd and becomes easy prey. That’s what people like me are in high school. Easy prey.
OK, I really have to get to lunch now. It would be so much easier if I weren’t a night owl. I do my best thinking at night when everyone else is asleep. Unfortunately, that means I don’t get enough sleep and I always wake up late. I have been tardy to my first period class all semester. It’s only P.E., which I don’t like much anyway, and the Coach usually tells me to run laps by myself. I like that. Sometimes I think I subconsciously sleep late just so that the Coach will make me do that. Anyway, the other downside of getting up late is that I never have time to make my lunch. My parents both work and don’t make our lunches anymore. Amelia always has whoever her boyfriend is at the time to take her out to eat. So, I’m left to fend for myself in the zoo.
I tried to skip lunch a few times, but my stomach couldn’t handle it. My stomach used to make so much noise that I actually had a teacher told me to quiet down. Well, I’m off. Catch you on the flip side. (God, I even sound lame)

[VF1J]

Jesus.

[Grimace]

I'll say that I don't know if Tigers and Antelope have any geographical overlap. May need further investigation.

[deconspire]

"Catch you on the flip" would'a been better, yeah, but don't sweat it.

It gets better, hang in there.

[pip]

Yep. I remember school being pretty much like that.

[sehnsucht]

Wow..that brought back memories. I managed to carve out a few good HS experiences (I was a "band geek") but on the whole, it was a kind of social totalitarian regime where individuality is NOT rewarded and I was glad to leave it behind.

This too shall pass (I know...not soon enough!) but college is usually a lot better for those on the social outliers (like me!)

[Fooglehammer]

Thanks to all who have replied, and to the many who read this story. I have not checked this site since I posted this, so I have to apologize for not being more clear. This is strictly a work of fiction. I am a 40-year old INTJ who likes to write fiction. I just thought my fellow INTJ's would appreciate this story. So to put your minds at ease, I am a happy, healthy and well-adjusted adult -- for the most part, at least. There's just not a lot of fiction out there that speaks to us, I find. So long for now.

[Zethariel]

The story depicts a really horrific view of high-schools in the US. Only now can I appreciate the difference in culture in Europe.

There are those introverts who pride themselves in being the way they are and get treated like shit in their young years, to grow bitter and cynical later on. There are those that "fix" themselves and adjust to the enviroment, forgetting who they are and being miserable and mediocre till the end.
I wonder if the third type, the one I identify with, is actually possible in such a setting. Namelly to fight back. Maybe again it is the difference in cultures, but where I hail from, I managed to stirr up a shitstorm for the bullies that tried -- resulting in a personal 10 metre bubble that bullies could not enter, and teachers had an eye out for me most of the time. Unhonorable? Maybe. But it sure as hell felt nice.