I am not much of a talker. I just don't say a lot sometimes. It's just the way I am. Plain and simple. On occasion I have gone days without saying a single word aloud. And I promise every penny that my mother has offered me for my thoughts that it is not because I am in a bad mood.
Contrary to popular belief and the perpetual bitch face that I apparently have, I am not often in a bad mood. In fact, the first step to putting me in one is to keep asking me what's wrong. Nothing is wrong except for the fact that you won't leave me the hell alone. I sometimes just don't want to talk, or sometimes I actually have nothing to say. (What a weird concept, right?) It's not because I'm shy. It's not because I'm self conscious. And I swear to god it has nothing to do with you. Jesus, can't a girl just play Final Fantasy alone in her room without everyone thinking that she is going to leap off a building?
I talk just as much as the next person. Or so I thought until a family friend told me that mom thought I never talked when I was growing up. Part of this may be that about 50% of what I said had the potential to get me sent to the corner (until I was fifteen) or result in a giant blow up that never ended well. (On one occasion this was literally the use of the word hamburger.) Another part of this was that by the time I would get home from eight hours of talking to people I didn't want to talk to people anymore. Hence my mother was convinced I was a mute unless I was deadlocked in a yelling match with my father about how I could in fact actually play Age of Empires while sick. (That was an actual argument.)
I also really don't like having to explain myself to people. Yes, sometimes I do weird things and no I don't mind explaining to someone why I built a reading cave in my closet. Other times, when I am doing something completely normal like coming home from class, I don't want to tell you all about how class was class. (It's fucking class people! Asking how it was everyday is obnoxious. It's always the same. If something interesting did happen I will probably be telling you about it anyways.) Honestly, I don't see why everyone is always so interested in what I am doing. Maybe it's just normal human curiosity, but does it really matter if I don't want to tell you about my day? Even if it was a good one?
My dislike of explaining is probably why my boss when I worked tech support kept telling me I was being rude. To me answering a question involves giving an answer to a question. To the rest of the world this apparently involves telling them every detail even slightly related to the question. It doesn't matter if they asked, "Do you like spaghetti?" You apparently can't just answer no without explaining your entire tragic back story with spaghetti involving your allergy to tomatoes and that you'd rather go hungry than eat jarred Alfredo. This happens a lot to me. Someone will ask me what class I have next and I'll say, "Humanities." Then they'll look at me like they expect more before awkwardly asking what that class is. I answered the question, but apparently it wasn't the essay they were looking for. (To be fair though, before I took the class I didn't know what a Humanities class entailed either.)
I honestly just don't like talking. I think my voice is one of the world strangest noises in the known universe. I'm not even self conscious about it. I just sometimes don't want to hear it. Yes, I do tell myself to shut up and no it's not for what I am saying it's because my voice is actually annoying me. I should just learn sign language and pretend I'm deaf. Then I wouldn't have to talk. (But everyone would be constantly shouting at me, so never mind.) I don't even think that other people find my voice annoying. I think to everyone else I sound like a normal human being just to me I get annoying when I talk too much. I actually think everyone gets annoying when they talk too much especially when they expect me to listen. (Okay, I may actually be kind of rude.)
My not talking sometimes has let to some of the weirdest conclusions from people. There are of course the above mentioned ones that I am either always pissed off, just never talk, or am just being rude. The conclusion that is drawn most often, however, is that I am shy. This is the weirdest conclusion that is drawn and it just baffles me entirely. I'm not shy. I never really have been. I mean come on people. I was the kid that at the age of tiny was sitting in the grocery cart singing "How in the heck can I wash my neck if it ain't gonna rain no more" at the top of my lungs. I just don't get the connection between not talking and being shy.
I remember back in elementary school when my sisters did a dance routine to a song by B*Witched (Oh, yeah 90s!) for the talent show and my older sister told me I had to be a leaf (like and actual fall on the ground leaf) to dance with them so I refused and didn't participate. (Who wants to be leaf?) Well, when we were getting seats to watch it a friend of my mom's asked why I wasn't up there with them. I said, "Because I didn't want to-" Then she cut off my explanation about not being a leaf and said, "Oh, that's right you're the shy one." While lacking the words at six, my thoughts went along the lines of "Bitch, I just didn't want to be a leaf!" (Why was my six year old hatred of leaves so hard to understand?)
The only time in my life when I wasn't branded as the shy girl was in third and fourth grade when I was friends with a girl who straight up didn't talk. I was only not labeled shy because she talked less than me. Then in fifth grade she started talking and I was once again labeled the shy one because she actually talked quite bit.
While all that makes me laugh a lot, what makes me laugh the most about this whole "Sarah's Shy" thing is that my younger sister is actually the shy one. I may not talk as much as she does because let's face it she talks a lot, but she will go to impressive lengths to avoid talking to people she doesn't know. When I was little and wanted and extra sauce packet for my chicken nuggets I had to go get them. When my little sister wanted an extra sauce packet I was sent to go get them. It is still the same to this day. I have seen this woman who is considered less shy than me, walk halfway across a town because she didn't want to ask someone where the restroom was. We had to go to the gas station so she wouldn't have to talk to anyone. (I suppose I could've asked for her, but it was her bladder not mine.)
A week ago we went swim suit shopping (it was blizzarding out, but that's besides the point) and we couldn't figure out where the section was stashed, so she said, "I'll ask this lady once she's done." Then the lady finished checking out her customer and my sister said, "Go ask her where the swimsuits are." Few things entertain me nearly as much as the ways my younger sister avoids human interaction with people she doesn't know. Usually it just involves "Sarah go ask them." Or if I'm not available her boyfriend substitutes quite nicely.
So, there you have it. I don't like to talk, it's not because I'm shy, and for the love of god I'm fine. Now leave me alone.
