Not only do I write less here, I'm finding that I talk less out in the real world. Me. The kid whose friends' parents used to joke that they were looking for my off switch. Pretty much up through high school my mouth went nonstop, at a mile a minute. I even occasionally talk in my sleep!
So it's kind of weird to find myself growing quieter. In some ways, I think it's a good thing - I'm more reflective, and certainly not needing to share every single thought I have is an indication of me growing up, out growing (finally!) some of my little sister tendencies. And some of it is context - even though it's been 18 months, I'm still living in a new city with a new group of friends, who have their own common back story that doesn't include me.
But sometimes I don't like this new quieter me. I find myself considering my words, weighing all the background and context I would need to fill out to make some story make sense, and choosing instead to not say anything at all. That seems pretty out of character for me.
I know the old me is still in there - when Jess and I got together earlier this month her poor boyfriend could hardly get a word in between the two of us. And I still get animated and excited and start talking too loud about certain topics. But I'm finding those moments fewer and further between. And more shadowed in doubt in hindsight.
Sigh. Every time I settle somewhere new I have to start the process over again of living 'with the top off,' as Becky calls it. I have a tendency to tamp myself down, to take up less space, make more room for others. And I know, theoretically, that I'm in an ideal place to be as big and loud and excited about ideas and life in general as I truly am in my head. And yet...and yet. Here I am, growing quieter.