“I’m not shy, I’m just quiet.”

My friend says without lie

But I can’t help thinking to myself

“I’m not quiet, I’m just shy”

It isn’t that I don’t want to talk

Or that I don’t like anyone

It’s just that when I try to speak

I end up wanting to run

And then the words get all choked up

Right there inside my throat

And soon I begin to wish

I’d never even spoke

 

And there’s this lie that

People are telling me

That anyone can be

Whoever they want to be

That you can say

What you want

And you can do

What you want

And if people don’t accept you

Then they aren’t worth your time

And they really don’t matter—Unless

You're shy

 

Because if you’re shy

Then you can’t really be who you are

And if you’re shy

Then you must be trying too hard

And if you’re shy you’re fake

Of prideful or closed

But no one cares to think

That the loud people might be posed

Because when everyone’s loud

And can say what they will

Then everyone’s accepted except

Those it kills

 

Then I’ve heard that only

Children are shy

Like only children whine

And only children cry

And I need to grow up

And out of my fear

I need to mature

Because at this age it’s just weird

But that doesn’t make sense

And it doesn’t seem right

That they get to decide

What I should be like

 

And none of my friends

Seem to understand

What it’s like to be so shy

That you just CAN’T

That when you try to dance

You suddenly can’t move

Or when you try to say hey

Your courage you lose

And it’s not that you’re quiet

And it’s not for your pride

It’s just that you’re terribly

Painfully shy

 

And then I hear these people say

“Oh that girl’s so rude!

She never talks to anyone

Like she’s always in a mood”

Or they say the opposite

And label her too awkward, right?

But what can she do about awkwardness

When her tongue’s all tied?

And I think to myself,

“They all wonder why:

They never pause to think that she’s

Not quiet, she’s just shy.”