Coincidence Or Not?

Coincidence or not?

Is it only me or most INFPs are Ravenclaw and have type 4w5 because honestly I’m confused since I’ve seen too many.

“You get a strange feeling when you lose someone you were intimate with. Kind of like you never want to be touched again. Or avoiding letting anyone else put their hands where theirs used to be. It becomes a strange process, letting the relationship die over and over again until you can stop hating anything that comes into contact with you that isn’t them. You resent the shower because all the hot water makes you feel like your body was never theirs. You quit masturbating because their fingers were the last inside of you and you want to keep it that way. You want your insides to become a relic of all the ways they loved you. So it becomes a funny process, you have to bury them and dig them up for every new old thing that you do without them. You kiss another person and think it’s the worst kind of betrayal. You’re angry at your mouth for enjoying it, you’re angry at your mouth for wanting more, and you’re angry at yourself for forgetting what their lips tasted like. That’s how it happens, you barely notice at first. It starts with tiny little things, you forget how they looked in the morning, you forget how their own brand of stubble felt between your thighs, you move on and it’s terrifying and it’s glorious but more than that, it’s freeing. Because you thought you’d never have that again, you’d never want someone so much that it felt like drowning and gasping for air was the most wonderful thing you’d ever done.So it’s okay, you can say ‘I am so scared that I will never love someone like I loved you’ when they leave, but it won’t be true. It won’t come close to true. Months from now you’ll be in a dark room with another person who turns your body into a lit match and there will be a litany of ‘fucks’ falling in procession from your mouth and they will be more a part of you than anyone has ever been and you’ll feel glorious and more than that, you’ll feel safe. And here is what you’re going to think: I had that moment with you and I am thankful for it. That is it.”

— Azra.T "You have to dig up some skeletons before you can bury them" (via 5000letters)

No more Four shaming!

Most people refuse to identify with, or do not see themselves as Fours because of the stigma attached to this type. Typology is not kind on Fours. It paints them as difficult, crusty, hard to love, defective, insecure people who are moody, hyper sensitive and emotional grenades primed to explode at any moment.

Fours can be extremely aesthetic, highly abstract, original artists and thinkers. They are sensitive to emotional nuances within themselves, and others. They fiercely protect and honour the individuality within themselves, as also in others. With their unconventional worldviews, they are  almost able to reach out to that something sublime that ties us all together.

Something Four has to keep in mind is that you beget what you put out there. So if you put on a crusty front fearing nobody will love you because you are not perfect, or not allow people to get close to you because you are afraid they will never understand you… They will NOT. If you want people to understand you and love you, you have to let go of expectations and allow yourself to open up without preconceived notions about the outcomes of social interactions. Focus less on how you are perceived, and more on the quality of interactions as well as a mutual give and take.

- ENTP Mod.

She can be sad even when she’s happy. She can be lonely even when she’s loved. She felt things deeply. It was both her blessing and her curse.

Juansen Dizon (via juansendizon)

Little Talks, Of Monsters and Men

“They say that if a writer falls in love with you, you’ll never die. But no one talks about what happens when you break a writer’s heart. How this gift of immortality becomes their curse. How they keep you alive in their poetry even while it kills them. How they recreate the crime scene on paper. Words spread out like map coordinates Looking for where things went wrong. Writing down the word ‘forever’ and Wondering how those three syllables sounded like an eternity when you said it. Every poem they write is a sketch of your face; as if their pen only knows how to make posters of the people they miss; each full stop a reminder of your freckles; each semicolon an image of your sideways smile and the dimple under your cheek. Every poem is just ‘I still love you’ written in code. Every poem is a letter unsent; because if hearts were mailboxes you wouldn’t have one. Every poem is an attempt to soothe the ache in their left chest; to let inked words bleed instead; to shrink the memories into sentences. Every poem is the Heimlich maneuver; so they write until the words locked in their throats fly out like freed birds and bruised lungs can finally taste oxygen again. Every poem is a paper boat called acceptance. Every poem including this one.”

— When you break a writer’s heart by Ceres // @mentamorphisis (via mentamorphisis)