I've rediscovered myself.
It's an interesting full circle. I spent all of my teen years and maybe half of my 20s an unrealized but fully-fledged introvert. I adored time along, my favorite playground was in my mind. I knew from a very young age all I wanted to do was write. My memories are wispy, but I'm pretty sure I spent copious amounts of time fantasizing a life by the typewriter (before the internet was born, of course), clacking away, making physical manifestations of my esoteric creativity.
Then in my mid-20s I realized that an unfortunate aspect of this temperment of mine was shyness. I did not want to live alone, and even more I did not want to live in fear of the very things I wanted to inspire: other people. I went on a mini-quest to destroy my social apprehension. And I succeeded, at the cost of my genuine self, the self that longed from introspection, to solve unsolveable puzzles.
About seven years later, here I am again. How did I get here? I realized... I have cycles, one of them being extremely introverted. But this is the first time I've reached this stage of the cycle and felt at peace, like I actually long for this, rather than feeling like I have to wait it out. It feels blissful to want time alone, to want time to just write and write and write.
The "click clack" sound of the keyboard is like a light timber, a bird repetitiously chirping on my porch in the morning in the summer, without a care in the world.
Sometimes I wish I could just get up and do this all day. Perhaps if I make the proper, sustained effort now, that wish will become a reality some day. Wouldn't that be a dream life...
It's an interesting full circle. I spent all of my teen years and maybe half of my 20s an unrealized but fully-fledged introvert. I adored time along, my favorite playground was in my mind. I knew from a very young age all I wanted to do was write. My memories are wispy, but I'm pretty sure I spent copious amounts of time fantasizing a life by the typewriter (before the internet was born, of course), clacking away, making physical manifestations of my esoteric creativity.
Then in my mid-20s I realized that an unfortunate aspect of this temperment of mine was shyness. I did not want to live alone, and even more I did not want to live in fear of the very things I wanted to inspire: other people. I went on a mini-quest to destroy my social apprehension. And I succeeded, at the cost of my genuine self, the self that longed from introspection, to solve unsolveable puzzles.
About seven years later, here I am again. How did I get here? I realized... I have cycles, one of them being extremely introverted. But this is the first time I've reached this stage of the cycle and felt at peace, like I actually long for this, rather than feeling like I have to wait it out. It feels blissful to want time alone, to want time to just write and write and write.
The "click clack" sound of the keyboard is like a light timber, a bird repetitiously chirping on my porch in the morning in the summer, without a care in the world.
Sometimes I wish I could just get up and do this all day. Perhaps if I make the proper, sustained effort now, that wish will become a reality some day. Wouldn't that be a dream life...
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