Intensity

I would encapsulate this even more simply by saying: intense people crave understanding, because they probably lacked it their whole life. Their environment always left them feeling like they were ‘too much’. No one could relate to the potency of their drive. But when intense people congregate, they finally feel  understood , like they belong

I think about who I’m most drawn to, and it’s always been those that exude intensity. People with a unique ability to get  consumed  by something. Maybe that’s some flaw in my system—to be drawn to intense, obsessive people—or maybe I am predisposed to noticing outliers. Because pretty much every outlier is obsessive, whether we’d like t

We’re on the same team—me and my obsession. I’m consenting to it, letting myself fall into the quicksand. And it’s equal parts terrifying and thrilling. Thrilling because enjoying something so much that it’s all you want to be doing is such a privilege, right? And terrifying because isolation is, well, isolating. It’s great until it’s not.

This is, I think, why intense people cluster. Intensity requires a constant building of momentum. And being around other intense people lets you continue to build that momentum instead of having to constantly break it. When you’re surrounded by intense people, you don’t need to explain yourself. You can just drop into the membrane, pop ba

Related to this, I’ve been thinking a lot about obsession, relentlessness, and near-unachievable goals. What makes someone able to reach heights others view as impossible? What makes some better suited for pursuits involving a singular focus? 

The answer seems to be: a capacity for intensity. Intensity is a derivative of focus. The word intense

There’s that Charles Bukowski line from his poem Roll the Dice:  If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start.