Confession of an Extrovert

It's been a long time since I've written. Too long, for someone who cares so much about writing.
Today, I'd like to discuss the qualities of an extrovert.
Because I am one.
And so is my husband.

Extroverts talk until they're blue (or red) in the face, but say little.
If it isn't spoken, it doesn't exist. If we don't discuss, we can't solve.
And by the time we get to our thesis, our comrade is lost amidst the ideas, which spew out, not according to any outline, but based on rapid misfirings of an overly distraught brain.
You know what I'm trying to say, though, right?

Perhaps extroverts are flamboyant introverts, who hide their truths not behind masked faces, but underneath layers of discourse.
We seem outgoing, but we're just good at saying what people want to hear.
Or saying enough to keep them distracted.