Silence Is My Home

Amelia Giese (she/her)

Editorial Team Member

There is joy to be found everywhere. For most, it is found in one another. Laughter that fills silences. Chatter that spans hours. Voices that bounce off walls and carry down hallways. And while I admire the gregarious among us, those kinds of people scare me. I find my joy elsewhere: in imaginary worlds, sunlight beaming through the window, listening to music as I walk to my destination. While I enjoy hanging out with others, I can’t do it for long. Sometimes just going to class is enough to burn my social candle to a stub. There’s nothing wrong with being an introvert, it just means I interact with the world differently. 

Introverts are often painted as people who are painfully shy, awkward, unfriendly, or are “mysterious.” Take Bilbo Baggins from the Lord of the Rings Series. He’s an outcast in Hobbiton, simply for preferring to be alone over constant company. He’s mysterious, perceived as rude and too good for others. Yet beneath that, he’s curious, thoughtful, and capable of deep connection—valuing his friendship with Gandalf far more than superficial popularity. His introversion has created a space for his creativity, deep thinking, and empathy to flourish. If Bilbo were an extrovert, would he have still forged that bond with Gandalf? Would there have even been adventures at all?

I cherish the little things in life. I love my self-care routines, my walk to work, feeling the breeze in my hair. There is so much to enjoy in the world around you that slips past when you get caught up in others. Alone, I have time to reflect. I can express how I’m feeling. I put words to my thoughts. I understand who I am and what I like simply because I take the time to be alone and do so. I notice details about the world around me. I see the beauty in life.

That’s not to say that being an extrovert means you experience none of that. I’m not an extrovert, I can’t speak to how they see the world. But I know that when I am in social settings, I lose those little moments. There’s no reflection for how I’m feeling in the moment; there isn’t time for one. I can’t notice the little things I enjoy, like hearing leaves rustle or the birds chirp. I feel rushed in my routines. There’s beauty in others, yes, but there is also beauty in solitude.

Being an introvert is not about being alone all the time. I am with people often. It’s about taking the time to be alone and “recharge” before stepping into the world again. It’s about understanding myself before taking the time to understand others. It’s about growth. The world might lift up loudness, but never underestimate those who are the quietest of us all.