The speaker begins by pushing back against an assumption: that being alone must mean being lonely, or that a person who seems silent has nothing to say. "I'm not lonely, I just enjoyed being alone" sounds calm and a little defensive, as if they've had to explain this before.
Then comes the turn. "I'm not quiet. I talked a lot, you know." The words "you know" feel almost shy, like a quiet confession to someone who never noticed. The answer arrives after a pause: "yes / On the papers." The speaker's voice lives in writing, not in conversation.
The mood is gentle, a bit wistful, and quietly proud. The speaker doesn't ask for pity. Still, there's a hint of ache in the idea that all that talking went unheard by the people around them. The title, "Paper," makes the page both a refuge and a stand-in for the listener they didn't have, or perhaps didn't need.