Ah every once and awhile I just feel very far away. Not physically. Maybe emotionally? I feel distant. I feel aloof in a non-sexy way. I've heard many times that a woman who is aloof is really intriguing, but I don't feel particularly intriguing in any way. And when people talk about that, it just sounds like the "aloof-ness" of said type of woman is more of a ploy, some sort of emotional manipulation by the woman to rope in a man. That is not my aloof-ness. I am not trying to be, I just am. And I kind of think that its the girls who are bubbly and outgoing, super affectionate and touchy feely who get mens' attention. I am very private and am not eagerly those things. Despite the wordiness of my blog sometimes, I actually have a lot that I rarely reveal to anyone. I feel emotional on a normal human emotional level. My heart is beating. And I don't think I am sad. But I just feel very far away.
You know, I just kind of realized that I don't talk about emotional things out loud really anymore. In the time I spent at SPU (the college I went to for undergrad) I worked hard to be very vulnerable and emotional with my various friends and peers. And I used to hangout a lot in groups of friends. But these days I prefer to be alone, one on one, or with just a small small group of people. I have reverted back to being very quite about the depth of my emotions these days. I talk to my best bud when our schedules actually align, but we don't usually get very long spans of time to chat.
I am feeling weird about this because I know I am an emotional person. I am an INFP. Heavy F. I am a crier. But I can't remember the last time I cried. Well, maybe I cry from things that are beautiful, but nothing dramatic has happened to me in a long time where tears have really streamed forth. I cry from inspiration and in awe and reverence of beauty. But I haven't cried from sadness or self pity or any of that jazz in a very long time. Maybe that is good, at least the not self pitying part. And I know there are sad things in my life, just like everyone else, but I don't feel moved to tears because of the power of those sad things. I feel like I handle my sad things very well these days. Thankfully.
I don't feel numb. Not at all. I feel very much alive, but just floating in a different space. Even when I am with people I adore, I feel like I can see my essence floating in a space up above me, observing the natural and spiritual world around me. I feel unweighted by gravity. I can't say I feel spacey, that word is too goofy for how I feel. But I guess I feel almost ethereal, I'm hovering in some separate space.
Then again, I feel hyper aware of the animal, nautral, physical part of me these days. The solid mass that interacts with the natural world. I feel that deeply.
My senses are so alive, I am taking so much in. But I am not emitting very much verbally. At all. Where is my voice? I think that I am just cautious these days. I realized that perhaps in college, I was not cautious enough with my quickness to express emotion. Maybe I am learning to guard my heart better? Hmm. Yes, I do feel guarded. And I think in a healthy way that I haven't experienced much before.
But there is a floaty thing that is happening along with, or maybe besides the guardedness.
I wrote a few lines this past summer when I was feeling somewhat listless. I have more engery now, but the engery is just laying stagnant inside of me waiting to be aroused from hibernation by something or someone, I am not sure which.
Here is what I randomly typed into the notepad function on my cellphone one day on the bus.
"...the far off look in her eyes. The pout was natural. The creased corners of her lips just turned down instead of up. By no means was it a reflection of her demeanor. Rather, upon closer inspection, higher on the landscape of her face one could find fragments of richly vegitated emotions peeking out from the caverns of her eyes."
And tonight I wrote, in contiunation with the previous words:
"Daydream clouds frequently blurred the space between nature's lover and she. But on rare occasions, when the light shimmered brightest, the foggy air would clear to reveal the land upon which she tread. Only the determined adventurer could glide through the soft contours of the valley of her mouth, and climb with fervor the arched peak of her nose to then fall into the pools of aquamarine that lay deep in the grotto of her eyes."
I think it is time I wrote a poem, or a short story. Jotting words in sudden fits of inspiration into your phone is not working for me.
Ah, I feel so far away. And I just suddenly noticed it took me an hour to write this. Pondering is drawing me farther away from whatever is truly taking place in front of me.