Friday, September 24, 2010


I am a moody little thing at times. And call it narcissistic if you must, but I am my favorite person to spend time with. I'm convinced that at least 40% of my life thus far has been spent alone. Any of my friends can tell you I am very difficult to get a hold of at times. I become easily overwhelmed by others demands of my time- be it on the phone, in person or even through text. Email is a whole different story. Good luck. If I spend(t) any lengthy period(s) of time with you, consider yourself deeply loved.

It's not that I don't enjoy people. I do. Utterly. Interacting with others nearly always excites me. Even "bad" or difficult interactions are appreciated because people have always intrigued me. And it's not that I have this high and mighty perception of myself. Two things (can) happen. #1 If I'm really enjoying myself or whomever I'm with, I invest myself in that/them almost 100%. It would almost be sinful in my eyes to allow that moment to be interrupted by my either my thoughts about something else, or by another being wanting my time/attention. #2 If I am forced to interact with people, whether it's at work, or going out to some event I feel obligated to attend, 9 times out of 10 I am devoured. Bombarded from every angle by people I know and those I don't. Spilling their guts, telling me their story, what they're feeling, what they want, what they hate...blah blah blah. Which is, completely fucking draining. I want to not care. I want disconnect. My disconnect now is quite literally shutting the world out because I have yet to learn how to do so in person.

See, I'm like a little girl. Easy to please and always distracted by pretty shiny things and animals. Walking around, every few seconds something or someone moves me. Be it the architecture of building, an ironic sign, the way someone smiles, the feeling of the wind on my skin, the way the sun is beaming through the clouds, the sparkle in your eyes, the smell of rain, the reflections in a window, or the color of her blouse. That's just walking down the street.

When people tell me their stories. *sigh* I can't even explain the ways in which I involve myself. I feel their pain. Like FEEL it. My mind observes everything: their tone, mannerisms, sighs, laughs. EVERYTHING. And it becomes a sort of mental game to figure out what's really going on. Because while people spill their guts, they also lie to themselves. (I do it too) So it becomes a game of "what is reality?" I act as a sponge and soak up all their lies, truths, delusions, words, sighs, mannerisms, perceptions and most importantly energy. Tell me that doesn't sound draining. They feel better. Me, overwhelmed. But I do it to myself. If I didn't allow myself to become so emotionally invested to the point where I'm thinking about these people's situations long after they've shared, I'd be good. You spill yourself and feel better. I gain inspiration and amusement.

It's all a balancing act.

This summer has been so different because for the first time in my life, I've severely put people into categories. May sound fucked up. It is what it is. If you noticed, my description of walking down the street was different than it was with interacting with people. It was light, airy, dreamy, inspirational and positive. People, while intriguing tend to have a more draining effect. Because the emotions I invest are sympathetic, worry, intrigue. People have a lot of fucking issues. Myself included. But I made a conscious decision sometime within the last 6 months to categorize people. There are those that give light and life, and those that take it. Of course there's also varying categories within those 2 simplistic ones.

Both are absolutely needed. All of us have life to give. It's our duty. But again, it's about balance. For me, this summer has been all about taking. Taking in the breeze as it wildly whips my hair about, feeling the rain drip down my skin, allowing the suns rays to kiss my skin with fire and warmth. And the people I've actively chosen to spend my days with, give me themselves. Because they have themselves to give...if not fully, more so than what I'm accustomed to. And so I take, pieces of their light, which gives me life. And in doing so, it makes life so much easier and less draining to give what I can give of myself to them.

A stark contrast to my "norm" prior to moving. And all of a sudden I find myself re-connecting with those that were never forgotten, the ones that stole pieces of me years ago that I couldn't forget if I tried. Surrounded by people giving me so much of themselves and sharing so much of their light, I am bright, blissful and ready to give my own to anyone who needs it. Even the vampires that drain me. Because I never have to look too far anymore for someone else to recharge me.

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