There are voices in my head that says the person you're in love with didn't deserve to be loved. Because he believes being extrovert about ones feelings make them expect more. You now can't actually make him realise that how much he mean to you. You will breathe loneliness and he'd drag you down in the abyss of silence.
As you sit across him, you won't be able to gaze at the world. You will not pour down your heart that's rusted with agonies. He will watch you battling with your impatience from a distance but won't help you. You burn yourself alive and scatter into million ashes and realise that death is also introvert. It won't read an epitaph for me.
Next time when you are going to sit at the rooftop at 3 am wearing excitement to talk with someone who promised to be a good listener reminds you of someone who stained your thoughts by his 'I-don't-care' behaviour. You want to cuddle that person tightly and want your ribs to speak that how feeble they are feeling. You chose to nod, instead. You chose to laugh hiding your tears. Deep inside there are floods of sentences that deserve to be felt but they are in the shackles of 'Who cares'.
You remind that when you got admired for your little efforts or when you slipped at the stairs, you almost shared every inch of your being with the person you trust the most. Now you are holding the world inside but don't want others to see its beauty, its pain, its insecurities.