I used to think I was an extrovert type because I love people so much, but I didn’t understand what extroversion and introversion meant. I thought it was just a fancy way of saying you were more confident or shy.
I love people. No matter what I have ever said in the past out of frustration or disappointment, I truly do love people. I love the way people inspire me. I love who I am when I am with people. I love watching the way people socialize among themselves. People, for better or worse, are the most exciting beings in this universe, and the only life forms who know what it’s like to be a human, alive, and aware like me.
But there is something that happens when humans get together. We use each other up. We don’t mean to, but we can’t help it. We swap out what is inside of us for what is inside of others, trading emotions, and ideas. We give away what we want to get rid of and take what we wish we had. Some people are energized by this. Others, like me, are drained.
People wear down my defenses. They get in under my skin and into my head. Their emotions get mixed up with my emotions, and their actions pull me along to places I’m never sure I want to go. After a while begin to panic. I feel I have to get away or else I’ll be lost. I feel convinced they’ll take everything in me and—knowing from past experience—that what they give back I won’t have the first clue what to do with.
I want to be alone to find myself again.
Still, I love them, and I keep going back.
I’m doing something new here. In addition to my regular blog post, I’m adding these journal entries. The goal is to post one every day hence the title of each will be the current day number out of 365. I was inspired to try this by Thord D. Hedengren.
Oh, and, as always, thank you for reading. If you like this post check out my weekly-ish newsletter for inspiring reads + existential musings on life, love, and inevitable human suffering. Or help support what I do by sharing a virtual cup of coffee.