Many people have trouble expressing how they feel. I have the opposite problem; I have trouble keeping what I feel inside. If you get to know this blog, you will know me better than people who see me everyday. I don't post as much as many, but everything I post really means something to me, a little sliver of who I am. I'm a passive conversationalist; I listen more than I talk. But I put all of myself into what I write. Oh, and, for what it's worth, I'm so much INFP it's like the description was written specifically for me. Please ask anything you like.
“The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.” ― David Foster Wallace