I am an introvert and i am not antisocial.

I am an introvert, and I am not antisocial. We are different. We speak through silence—we listen rapturously to it and try to memorise it. Silence speaks to us without words. Silence is the best manure to grow. Generally, only my better half realises my nature; society does not. I turn into an ambivert in a social gathering—I make small talks, I mingle—but two hours of social interaction require four hours of isolation to recharge. I am a hardcore introvert—my profession as a doctor demands otherwise—so I have to turn ambivert sometimes, especially when I am communicating with my patients. It cannot be a one way affair with them. I did not miss the social life during COVID isolation. In fact, the isolation came as a breath of fresh air. After a tense day at the hospital, you wanted to be left alone to collect your thoughts and get back your sanity. Give me a good book, some good podcasts on Spotify, and a few movies on Netflix, and I am good to go. In fact, my better half sometimes gets surprised by the fact that I do have friends—good friends—who are there by my side at the drop of a hat. Introverts are just as capable of forming close relationships as extroverts. They may simply do it in a different way. I never cared for the likes and dislikes on social media—I left it long ago because I did not feel the need for external validation—and I wanted to grow silently. I even hate video calls. I hate to discuss my health, my wealth, or my family in a public forum; I like to listen to others. Saturday evenings—give me a good book, a warm nook, a virgin mojito, and leave me alone. I wonder how one can go to clubs, get sozzled, throw epileptic fits, eat the most unhealthy of diets, and then waste the whole Sunday nursing a big hangover. Tell that to an extrovert, and he will think that you are an alien. I am not antisocial; I find it a huge waste of time to spend the evening just sitting, gossiping, and eating unless there is a special occasion. I still like to pen down my thoughts and life in our own personal diary (I use the "Day One" app). As we are too private with our thoughts and feelings—journaling has been a great game changer—you can literally run amok with your feelings. When it comes to attending a social function that is unavoidable, suddenly I turn into an ambivert . I am not afraid of social interaction; I just open up with the books I have read, the great series streaming on Netflix, and the wonderful Tim Ferris podcast, and it is fun listening to others when you can recollect the same at their next meeting. But at the end of the party, when I see the extroverts fully charged, I am strictly the opposite; I am just drained. I need isolation to recharge. While extroverts prefer an evening full of bonhomie, fun, and frolic, we like to recede in our cave. My typical day is very boring: an early morning walk with my thoughts, ideas, and Spotify podcasts; making my own breakfast; an OPD full of patients; where I love to talk and hear; and at the end of the day, it is so refreshing. I like my afternoon siesta with my phone on aeroplane mode. Evening is swimming time—the rhythmic strokes surrounded by your rhythmic thoughts. Have a list of excuses if someone invites you to an evening party. As extroverts find our lives boring, so do we find their days extravagant. It is important to celebrate these differences and to create a world where introverts feel welcome and accepted.