This incredible opening paragraph has been lingering in my mind:

There is a form of being together that feels as easy and spacious as being alone, when your experience is not crowded out or eclipsed by the presence of the other but deepened and magnified. Such companionship is extremely rare and extremely precious. All other company, no matter how dear, inevitably reaches a saturation point and begins to suffocate. If one is an introvert, that point comes sooner and more violently. A return to solitude then becomes nothing less than a rapture.

I wonder: is a "return to solitude" possible in the modern world? Even with most notifications turned off, I get dozens (or sometimes hundreds) of unrequested messages in my work and personal life every day.

One one hand, I'm grateful that people seem to want to talk to me about things. On the other hand, the expectation of a thoughtful reply makes "a return to solitude" feel impossible. Yet-to-be-sent replies are crowding out my own inner monologues. Guilt about not replying weighs heavy. If I reply rapidly, it seems to just lead to more messages. I desire the solitude this article describes, but worry about it's achievability.

I finished that first paragraph and went from “it me” to sending it to my significant other as introvert love poetry.