Introversion and imagination

Seems like when I get into an introverted mind state, there are two flavours of it. One of them is like “introverted outwards” where all I can think about is what I lack. Like seriously, I don’t have a submarine, a helicopter, a Ferrari, a mansion, supermodel gf, or small island. It sounds petty to other people, but it depresses me that I live on a planet that can be a playground, and I don’t have all the good toys. Anything I may lack, I feel a real, painful loss over. If I think of something that I want that is too far beyond my capabilities to acquire, it feels like a huge letdown. Chances are I will never impregnate Taylor Swift on my own private yacht. This is a state of depression.

The other mindstate I would call “introverted inwards” which helps me recall what I’ve owned and who I’ve been along with what I own now and who I am in the present. Then when my mind knocks on the tiny door of imagination, the wizard inside opens it and a torrent of neverending colour, ideas, and even music pours forth as a flash flood. If I daydream too much, I can get a migraine headache from it. When I was a kid I had developed a strong imagination from being so depressed over my shitty life, and as an adult I can still reach that place where I can escape from the “introverted outwards” mindset.

I can get the same imaginative state for short periods of time while feeling extroverted, but why would I want to? I’m partying!

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