My mind is overflown with countless epiphanies and experiences. Each meaningful in its own right, and it makes me want to provide them with the attention it deserves. But I don't have that kind of energy or desire. Something that's always been difficult for me is to snip corners. I need to prioritize which experiences are worth writing about and which ones aren't. Sometimes I think, man, I wish I wrote about this before the turn of events occurred because usually the change is good, but the writer in me knows I could've utilized the standstill to further my writing.
I guess I'm torn between the writer in me and the girl who just wants to experience life. I've identified myself as a writer, always, and only lately have I felt like there are other dimensions I need to discover. I seek the introvert within. I've felt drawn to moving to a specific place and I've been following my intuition, but I'm starting to understand why I want to move there and it gives me affirmation.
I'm a powerful extrovert. I love social settings and being around the energy of others, but there's always been that gnawing emptiness inside of me. I either ignored it and replaced it with friends or couldn't quite put my finger on what it is, so I barely noticed its presence or the absence of its presence. I believe most people are either extroverts or introverts. A lucky few have mastered the ability to channel between the polar opposites, but all they've really learned to do is travel between the two worlds. You don't really co-exist within those realms.
It's like this giant bucket. You can either fill it up with juice or water. The bucket's only so huge and can contain so much. If you try to pour both the water and juice in at the same time, it overflows and leaves a confusing mess. It's unproductive and dysfunctional whereas some people have learned to transfer the liquids out and replace it between the two beverages. I have a friend who's such an extrovert like myself, but his poetry is written by an introvert. Without reading his work, I wouldn't know such a presence exists in him.
I want to achieve that sort of depth, and I can only do that by myself. I'm going to move farther away where I know less people and it's harder to connect with my friends. It's also cheaper to live there, so I can have no roommates. It'll require me to rely on myself, intuitively. I look forward to it.
I began realizing the psychological damages of self-denial and suppressing my premonitions is more dangerous than I could possibly understand. I could be afraid to open up, but the feelings will linger. It's time I explore them and see where it takes us especially since we seem to be on the same page, both filled with attraction, intrigue, depth, reservations, fear, and this unfulfilled potential of what can be. We're both drawn to each other. I also look forward to where that leads.