Introspection

I think I've reaffirmed something for myself.

There are two people who live inside me. No, I'm not confessing to split personality disorder (unless maybe I am o.o). I'm talking about two competing dreams. Two competing ways of viewing the world. I am, in many ways, two completely different people.

Part of me is a writer. The writer is quiet, introverted, and disconnected from reality, but has a good grasp of humans and the human psyche. She listens well, but can sometimes ramble for hours about the same subject. You're often lucky if she remembers to brush her teeth in the morning. The writer dreams. Reality isn't really pertinent. She spends her time seeing the world through the eyes of others - other characters, other dimensions described by other writers and creators. The writer is fragile and secluded, at times, and uncaring of the petty problems found in the everyday at others.

But there's another part of me that longs for new things, that engages unfailingly, that becomes miserable and preoccupied in isolation. I could call this other person a lot of things - diplomat, perhaps, interpreter, a mover and a shaker, certainly - so I suppose a leader will do. The leader makes. The leader does, and loves the reality her feet are planted in. The leader is the person I could be if I accessed my full potential.

I suppose the writer and the leader are not exclusive. It is possible to balance the two. I've managed it before, in some ways. But lately, I feel as if I'm stagnating. Devolving, perhaps. So, essentially what I wanted to say is this: absence makes the heart grow fonder, and balance is the center of stability. Sometimes, balance requires movement, and sometimes it requires none. Always it requires inertia, from a strictly physical perspective. It's the changing from one state to another that is difficult.

At my heart I'll always be a person of cool colors. But I shouldn't forget that I have to hold the whole spectrum to be happy. So I must keep attempting to live a warm and vibrant life.