Hello there. I’m a Drifter. What is a Drifter? In truth, it’s probably something only I know about. Most people say there are two types of people in the world. What they are is up to them. Me, I’ve always said “Introverts and Extroverts”. But there’s probably another type. There are never two major groups of anything. There are always the minorities you have to consider. Extroverts are how most people are, or act. They want nothing more than to get out of their heads. Introverts, on the other hand, try all the time to get inside their heads. But there are probably also Drifters: people who have always been inside their head, or Introverts who succeeded. Once you get in your head, you discover it is in fact pretty big. It’s like a whole other planet to be explored, with tons of life to be catalogued and named, if you’re that sort of person. I just want to see everything, to “taste every flavor in the bowl”. But I’m pretty sure there are more than 52 homemade flavors. Along with the Drifter minority, there are those people who know what’s in their head, and chose to do something with it; a productive type of Drifter. I suppose crazy people just can’t deal with what’s in their head, so they literally went out of their minds. Maybe we’re all crazy. I’m sure Extroverts would agree. Back to Drifters. Instead of a planet teeming with life, it’s a mind teeming with thoughts. I don’t like to classify thoughts; I like to see what they’re about. Thoughts are easy enough to examine, cherish, and maybe even have again. But it’s hard to bring thoughts out into reality, voice is so limiting. Then they’re just like a scar. A scar on the hands that you do everything with. Scars are rather ugly. After a time, though, no one but you notices. Nobody cares to look at the hand they shake. I shake palm-down. People just walk away, carrying those heavy briefcases that must carry their hearts, because their mind is too busy thinking about the next appointment. Or that car crash in this morning’s paper. But I wouldn’t know. I’m not a gray-suited businessperson. I’m not a local artist who never cares about anything except their next painting. I’m not a spunky, purposely off-beat, chain-wearing, gum-chewing teenager. It might be easier just to say who I am, or might be. I’m a shy, out-of-tune, bookworm of a tidy Drifter girl with a passion for learning and thinking, at least when I’m myself. I like to think of myself as a mirage, subject to change without notice and never really there. Perhaps that’s why, when I’m thinking or Drifting particularly far, I tend to grip something without noticing. I’m just a mirage With a wish to be solid… I’m just a dream With a longing to be a memory… I’m just a story With a hope to be history… Intangible, yet so lifelike You can almost touch it Before it dissolves in the rain I can’t help the poetry. It has to be written down, or it’s lost. Sometimes a thought is so clear, so perfect, and so ideal that it must be preserved. It’s not a talent, it’s a method. Human weakness has some advantages. Then the music seeps in. A little collection of Introversion, Extroversion, and Drifting, all with the mutual need for expression. Am I the first conscious Drifter? Possibly. Am I the only one? I hope not. Drifters are so like Introverts, it’s hard to tell.