#not corrected

You should spend about 40 minutes on this task.

Write about the following topic:

Some children spend hours every day on their smartphones.

Why is this the case? Do you think this is a positive or a negative development?

Give reasons for your answer and include any relevant examples from your own knowledge or experience.

Write at least 250 words.

Every single day, we can see some children play on their smartphones for hours. Most parent clearly dislike this habit and are trying to break it.

The worst thing that you can do when being friends with me, is to push me aside for other things. I don’t do friends. I don’t do people. I can live happily ever after without them, only by myself, immersed in my own sea of thoughts. I actually do that, quite a lot, so if I count you as a friend (emphasize on if), it means that I consider you to be a very important aspect of my life (again, I don’t do people) and that I’m actually making some superhuman efforts to be ‘close’ to you and actually be friendly in general. If I’m giving you my 100%, I expect you to give me ten times more in return. I am selfish, I take more than I give, but that is because you have to understand the great effort I am making to interact with you. You are important to me, so I must feel important to you as well. If it sounds like overstepping the boundaries of friendship, is because it really does. I highly doubt that an INTJ would befriend (in the true sense of what this implies, not only the pleasant feeling of having someone to talk to.) someone only for their mind, or looks, or popularity (definitely not). We bond with the essence of that person. We dissect it and take parts of it, to understand them and then decide if we like them and make them our own. We see you as part of ourselves. This isn’t romance, this is friendship on the highest and most ‘purest’ form of it. I see you as an extension of myself. I know you better than you know yourself, trust me. There are no residues of unclarity, or uncertainty, or the synthetic feeling that friendships nowadays generate. We are decisive even in our relations with those around us. Especially then. There is no superficiality in our friendship. It’s a connection that runs deep, a bonding of souls if you want to be poetic, it runs through our veins, under our skin, but we indulge it. 

So, the worst thing that you can do is putting us in second place on your priority list. I don’t have you number one on my priority list, because I am incapable of being a social person and that aspect comes on the last or so place for me. But I know you are a social person, so the moment you put me aside to spend time with other people, be it going out or something more serious (not family gatherings, or funerals, or something like that, I’m not absurd) it will make me cut you out completely. Out of my priorities, of course. And out of my life. My mind. Out. Of. Everything. I will be too proud to tell you this, so you will observe that suddenly we can’t spend time together. At all. I will feel insulted. Why? Because I will feel betrayed. Because I will feel.

Unfortunately, INTJs are possessive. Or at least, I am. Not absurdly possessive, but enough to pick our nerves when you tell us about what a great time you had with some people you’ve met two days ago, while we’ve been at home the whole day because you decided to call off our hang out time. Not cool. At all. 

Anew

He sat in his favourit chair. Cuddled up with soft pillows and a warm blanket. No noises in his room, why should there be? Not like anyone would come to visit. He lives a two hour drive away from what people call civilization, so having guests is very unlikely. To be frank he wouldn`t even want them right now.

Starring at the book in his hands his mind has begun to wander of into

`what-if`s

and

`what-may`s.

He remembers the talks he had with his psychologist Dr. Davis about

`letting it go`.

He really isn`t doing a good job at it. But how should he? Even the book reminds him of them. Small and simple things, at times just a smell or familiar sounding voice in the TV, let it all come back. Back into the present that he wished never happend. Oh, he didn`t do something bad and nothing tragic happend to his friends or loved ones. But does that mean the trouble he has is less painful or noteworthy?

Slowly turning the page he starts feeling a bit frightend. Could those pages hold the answers he seeked for so long or will they just send him into another reliving of that moment? He knows he should put the book away. Maybe even burn it. However all the trouble he had acquiring this worn out old collection of papers must be worth something. There is no going back anymore. He sacrificied to much, did to much, far to much, just so he could read this small little pocket book.

Gathering all his courage he starts reading. The first page is blank except for three words. They seem a bit out of place and not quite right, but for him they are important already. In his head he repeats them over and over:

`They listen to, They listen to, they listen to, they listen to`.

He knows what they mean, at least he things he does. A bittersweet taste starts to fill his mouth as he turns pages. „This is where it begins.“ he mutters into the silence. Creepingly the air has become heavy on his time withered body. Every movement no matter how small seems to exhaust him more and more. He didn`t even notice how often he now dabs his forehead with his left upper arm. First signs of an unhealthy condition like Dr. Davis told him. But he has to know. He has to read. At first it`s only the name of the chapter again and again as if it would tell him his secrets with nothing but that. Than the first paragraph, the second, the third. But the big revelation doesn`t happen. Instead with every sentence, every group of hollow words his disappointment increases. Its just a normal book, just an average novel. Nevertheless while reading through the first chapter he felt uneasy. Like there is something not quite right about the writing. But he can`t put his finger on it and the thought alone makes him restless again.

`Why don`t I get it? There must be something, Why don`t I get it? I have to get it!`.

A cold rage is surfacing in him, fueled by the inability to be good enough to live up to his own expectations. His hands are shaking in cold sweet. Reading becomes burdening, his mind getting clouded gently and frustrating at the same moment. When he was younger he compared it with seeing yourself slowely floating away from what you thing is your body. Being all up there in the corner of the place you inhabit. Looking at people doing everyday chores, at times believing that the reccuring person in those scenes reminds you of someone. But he is has grown out of his youth quickly. At this moment, in this place its just another dissociation.

He sees him now. The person that he learned to recognize as himself. Sitting in his chair, trembling, sweating and looking almost deadly pale from exhaustion. It doesn`t matter anymore though. Where he is nothing can reach or touch him. Everything harmful or good is drowned in icy water. He can only watch through the surface into a world without meaning. However the person that is him stands up from his chair. Putting that odd much-thumbed book on the desk to the left of the chair.

The man stands there calmly waiting. After a few moments the room is filled with the voice of a friendly ringing. The sound is slipping into every corner of the room with a catchy and memorable tune. The man carefuly turns around and picks up the receiver of an old-fashioned black telephone resting in the chair.