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the gulf between social interaction that drains me, saps me of life, requires subsequent recovery and that which invigorates, fulfills, injects with vitality, and feels like home is vast and palpable. it’s not merely a matter of enjoyment, it feels a qualitatively distinct mode of experience.
i’m not sure how fleeting this will be, but i’m going to cherish it while it’s around. the latter mode is so rare for me that i frequently distrust its possibility; i’m glad to be proven mistaken.
and it’s certainly possible retrospectively i’ll view this as naive, that it was draining me in some way, and i was just ignoring it because of the adrenaline rush. i’ll keep an eye on things, and should emphasize that i’m aware this isn’t a replacement for the immense value i find in being alone.
“Here and there on earth there is probably a kind of continuation of love in which this greedy desire of two people for each other gives way to a new desire and greed, a shared higher thirst for an ideal above them. But who knows such love? Who has experienced it? Its true name is friendship.”
to be more explicit about this point: i can be exhausted by something i enjoy and fulfilled by something that makes me feel miserable in the moment. it’s an independent variable.