Dearest Darwin

I've never attributed much truth to the ten-degrees-of-freedom theory. Perhaps because I'm an introvert, and the thought of being so easily connected to every other person alive on the planet is rather overwhelming. While for some it may seem a thrilling prospect, I'd much rather spend some time alone working through my own thoughts and actions than jump into the social peripherals of every human being.

Perhaps that's why it's so very odd when I meet someone to whom I'm already in some way connected.

Not that this is a bad thing. Ultimately, if the person I meet is decent and doesn't aggravate my many prejudices (I do have many. I should work on curing those. . .) then I have no qualms with talking to him/her. It is not, however, an occurrence that I wish to happen more often.

However, this, and the resulting conversations with someone that was quite recently a stranger bring to mind my many social failings. The moments when it feels safe to rant slipping into those of awkward silence, because I am not well-versed in the reactions of others. Biting ones tongue to keep from offending and over-analyzing the other persons sentences and actions.

How is it that humans have progressed at social creatures at all? But that is a foolish question: the population is largely composed of extroverts. How, then, did those like me survive? And for what purpose? For I can hardly see how these traits have been passed down.

Oh, Darwin, you've let me down.