And your point is...?

I would not categorize myself as a sad person. I'm definitely not bubbly, but not sad. I've come to a place where I live with this inner contentedness that keeps me rooted and generally happy. Joyful, maybe.

I also would not categorize myself as being an emotional, dramatic person. I generally keep to myself and if there's ever anything bothering me, most people don't know about it. I have to be particularly distressed before I make my inner complaints known.

The more I examine myself, the more I question all that.

If you've kept up with my blog for any period of time, you have probably seen mention of how incessantly I cry. Most of the time, I just move on, but sometimes it really makes me wonder. What's the deal with all the tears? Am I miserable? No, I don't think so. I've been pretty miserable before, prior to when all this crying insanity started, and this doesn't feel like misery.

I'm starting to be convinced that I am just incredibly sensitive. To everything. And I mean everything. I am a bleeding heart. If I confessed right now to all, or even a portion, of the things that have made me cry in just the last several months, I fear that you may 1.) start to question my mental sanity, and/or 2.) immediately feel like you knew too much about me. So I will refrain for now, for your sake, more than mine.

And that's something else....what is the difference between my willingness to write/blog about what's going on in my head and heart, over just verbally sharing it with everyone I see face-to-face? Am I not being just as emotionally/dramatically inclined by typing out my feelings for the world to see? Or even more so, maybe?

I go back and forth about this all the time: what I should write on here, and what I shouldn't. Even now, I'm contemplating deleting this whole thing. Why? Because I'm getting visions in my head of the stereotypical quiet, socially-inept, loner, starving for attention, who has no friends and no one to talk to besides her computer screen and a couple other people just like her that she "met" online, and who never writes about anything but her current emotional woes over her cat who seems to be acting strangely lately. (Wow, that's one of the longest, most awkward sentences I've written in my life.) I don't want to be her.

But as soon that worry starts to overcome me I think, "Worry not, Emily. You could never be her." 1.) I don't like cats (or any animal for that matter), so I would never blog about feline woes, other than lamenting that there's one in my house. 2.) I talk to people. Sometimes. When I'm feeling particularly verbose. (Which for me, equals saying about two lengthy sentences.) No worries there. 3.) I have friends. I just spent two weeks with some of my closest friends. At least, I think they're my friends. Meaning, I definitely have friendly feelings toward them, and I think they feel the same toward me. They seem to like me. Yeah. So no reason to fret there, either.

I just need to chill, quit being so being so paranoid. Just because I'm inclined to keep my mouth shut doesn't mean there's something wrong with me. I've found a different way to communicate, and while I don't need to hide behind that and never talk to anyone, there's no problem with it.

Anyway....I got way off topic...assuming that I even had a topic in the first place. What have we learned? 1.) I am an emotional person, just in a different way, for different reasons; 2.) I have no fear of becoming a loner cat-lady, with no friends; 3.) I like making numbered lists; 4.) I talk to myself in the third person; and 5.) I'm rather inclined to rambling. I like learning things, and I like for things to have a point, so this is good. Maybe there's something salvageable in this blabbering mess.