I'm Sorry

You are TOO KIND :’)

I am attached to detachment. After mastering the ability to get close to others without allowing them to sink into my veins, I am not sure I can ever go back to the naive enthusiasm that was once felt when meeting someone new. That excitement has gone. In its place lies ever-growing suspicion, the knowledge that they will leave, it is just a question of when. I am attached to detachment, because I cannot survive another loved one being lost.

Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky.

Somehow, we’ll find it. The balance between whom we wish to be and whom we need to be. But for now, we simply have to be satisfied with who we are.

A couple of times in your life, it happens like that. You meet a stranger, and all you know is that you need to know everything about them.

I always try to listen to other people more than I talk about myself. I feel like talking about myself would be too overwhelming to them and I want them to feel comfortable. That way I end up knowing the person more than they know myself. I just feel like I’d be kind of rude if I suddenly starting talking about myself a lot. I also know that when I listen, I listen with my whole self and that’s how sometimes I just don’t know how to reply because I was so encompassed by what the other person was saying. I’m afraid that they might think I’m boring or that I don’t think in an independent way but it’s only because they’re so interesting to me and I want to get to know them more and make them feel special.

…It’s all too much and not enough at the same time.

One of the cruelest things you can do to another person is pretend you care about them more than you really do.

This is a good sign, having a broken heart. It means we have tried for something.

Most of the time I love being an INFP but there’s also times when my mind drives me crazy. I often feel like I’m too screwed up to be fixed and that no one really cares about me even if I care so much about others. I’m convinced that my idealistic idea of the world will break me. Nothing will be as good as I imagine it and no one will ever see me the way I want them to. That alone breaks me and I can’t tell anyone about it. Because… no one cares and the only reason I’m writing this is because I’m anonymous. There’s a galaxy in my mind but I’ll never let anyone see it.