THE DARK SIDE OF INTROVERSION

                                    

                                          
"I wish I was never born!" 
My throat hurt me a little. I had yelled at the top of my voice. My heart was pounding, and I could almost feel it bouncing up and down in my chest. A scary feeling took hold of me, like one who had just committed a heinous crime.
I expected him to react in many different ways. A huge slap to my face, perhaps a knock to my scalp, or even the usual 'Shut up!'. But the response I got, left me in total confusion. 
He laughed. A long, genuine laugh. 
My father hardly smiled, not even at the funniest jokes. But this time, I could tell he wasn't faking it. 
My confusion turned back to fear; I still expected him to slap me. I tightened the muscles on my face and prepared for the worst.
After a few awkward minutes, his laughter finally died down. 
"I hear you," he said amidst chuckles. "So, what do you need? A rope, knife or lighter? Or should I buy sleeping pills?"
He fell into a derisive laughter again, admiring his own sarcasm. At this point, I felt totally embarrassed, but my primary emotion slowly returned to anger, as I remembered the reason behind our discussion, and my rude outburst.
"You think it's funny?" I asked. 
"No," he replied, "It's not funny. It sounds completely stupid. And you must be insane to make such a statement."
I kept silent. 
"If you want to take your own life, go ahead. After all, what's seventeen years? I'm still young enough to have another son."
Inwardly, I knew he didn't mean it. If I died right now, my dad would have no reason to remain in this world. 
He was introverted and anti-social, just like I was. He hardly associated with anyone, at home, work, or even in church. He always kept to himself, only communicating with others when truly necessary.
In his youth, he had maintained a lack of presence throughout school and after he graduated from the University, he disappeared from his course mates and was quickly forgotten, even by his ‘closest’ peers. 
He ended up getting a job as a data analyst for a telecommunication company, and there he spent his days all to himself, working with his personal computer, completely estranged from the world around him.
A few years after gaining employment, he was fortuned to meet, and eventually got married to the beautiful daughter of the old woman who sold lunch to him every day at work. She wasn't formally educated but she was a skilled cook (gained from experience of course). 
She, unlike him, was a free spirit who loved to see new places and make new friends. Through her, for the first time, my father learnt how beautiful the world could be, when you enjoy it with others beside you. 
She died in a car accident three years ago. Fifteen years after their marriage.
After her death, my father relapsed back into his introverted shell and cut off all social connections he hade made with my mother while they were married.

I was a product of their marriage, and like my dad I ended up quite introverted, but unlike him, it bothered me a lot. Sometimes, I tried to act like an extrovert, but it was mentally draining, and I ended up ruining my social life totally.
"I hate myself. None of my classmates like me. Everyone despises me”, I complained to my father.
He gave a loud sigh and sat upright on the sofa, then beckoned on me to sit beside him, which I did reluctantly.