the withdrawn writer

I’ve always been quiet. For as long as I can remember my timidness has been a part of my identity. At a young age, family members would urge me to converse and be polite (not speaking was a sign of rudeness), but I never wanted to. Of course, this quiet tendency eventually evolved into an attribute. Everyone who knew me knew I was quiet, especially in unfamiliar situations. Even if we were close, it was almost guaranteed that I’d still be timid at times. One of my friends compared me to a cat because I have to adjust to people before I can get comfortable with them. Accurate.

why don’t you speak?

I’m an observer. I remember when I started going to parties (I rarely went), people I knew would often tell me I seemed lost. Honestly, I was always trying to find my place in the midst of sweaty, drunk teenagers. Usually, I ended up people watching. Partying has never been my forte. It doesn’t excite me. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good bop-a-roo (aka dance-worthy tune) as much as the next person, but there’s something exhausting about parties. Most times I feel as if I’m being swallowed by a crowd of people, and I become overwhelmed and over and done with the entire experience. Have you ever seen the meme where the dude’s social battery dies? That always happens to me when I’m around people for long periods of time.

Image result for social battery meme

all of a sudden i found it. 

Writing became a solace for me. It became my way of expressing myself without having to talk to people, which was ideal (it still is). I don’t remember which grade I began writing narratives in, but that’s when I fell in love with the ability to use my own words to portray another character’s story. Prior to this, I’d only been reading other authors’ words. Creating my own stories took my appreciation and love for narratives to another level.

i’m a poet & i didn’t even know it.

Somewhere along the journey, I discovered poetry, and went through several stages of different writing styles, and whilst going through stages my love for poetry flourished. Eventually, I wrote less short stories in the form of paragraphs and complete sentences and more wayward, metaphorical stories as a self-proclaimed poet. The idea of being able to write without mandatory rules excited me, it gave me infinite room to spill my ink. The lack of restraint that writing poetry allows me is one of my favorite things about it. Even though I tend to overthink most things, there’s nothing better than not having to look back and make sure there aren’t any comma splices (ha). I create the narrative and I create the rules. It doesn’t get more euphoric than that (or maybe it does and I just don’t know yet).

I’m glad I didn’t speak much and that my timidness held my words back for so long. If it didn’t, who knows if I ever would’ve found the beauty in writing? Better yet, who knows if writing would’ve been so close to my heart?*

Here’s a draft of something I wrote that relates to this. Enjoy.

unspoken by Sara B. (a rough draft)

my mouth has always been

sewn shut.

not a word would fly out

even when my brain

would flood with questions

and opinions.

i’d let my head rupture

and ooze a cluster of question

and exclamation marks

before i let

the seams split

with sound.


my cheeks have

nothing but

words confined inside

crawling out from corners

into the tiny spaces

between my teeth

trying to bulldoze

my lips wide open.


sometimes they succeed

+ bold words trickle out

like a faucet that wasn’t

turned (off)



most times i sit there

ignoring the compulsions,

simply out of habit.

but i promise,

there’s nothing worse

than cheeks chubby with

words hopping around

like a rabbit.




2 thoughts on “the withdrawn writer

  1. “CAT”? Hmmmm….your Aunt Laurell called you Crouching Tiger since you were a little girl and this pic justifies it 🙂


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