But, darling, no one is understanding this.
My abilities are flowers and you're picking off all the petals
before I even have time to grow more.
My brain is a garden that I can only water when I'm alone,
so please understand that I will wilt and dry out when exposed
to too much social interaction for too long of a time.
I need time to recuperate, to grow, to freshen up.
Because a flower is no fun when it's wilted, and all the petals are gone.


(d.d.b)

I have to be strong for other people.*

This is all that I know.

I cannot, must not, break down
in front of another human.  
My pain takes a backseat to theirs.
Cast aside, on my own comand.

I still feel the pain, however.
And when I'm alone...
Sometimes, when alone,
I remember.
I break.
I hurt.

Then I walk out.
Ready to take on another person's burdens.


(d d.b)

Am I boiling beneath your skin yet
You waged war
When all I wanted was peace
Let's explode
Paint all over our bodies like canvases
I promised to paint you
And you promised me pianos and voices
Loudly roaring and softly muttering
I'm tired of all these promises to never lie
Never hurt me
You can't guarantee your future
Sure as hell not mine
So now that your skin
Bleeds purple and green
From my brush and needle
Are you ready
To believe me
Don't forget to breathe when I boil you through
For it was all you
You waged war

Play me a sad tune
And I'll sing to you
Play me a sad tune
And I'll dance to you*

You played me
A song about
A boy who loved
And was broken

The girl he'd die for
Toyed with him when
Her boyfriend was busy
And he treasured their time

The girl who promised to love him
Who made him smile and laugh
Even though she was shy and scared
He forgot to an undaunted charmer

But all she did was wait for
Him to fall
And she never helped to
Pick him up

The shy girl waited
And picked him up
Spent the summer
Trying to remind him

Remember April
And the I love yous
You stopped saying back
And never told me why

Remember both of us
Completely awkward
How hard I tried
To get your blue eyes

I just wanted you
To look at me
The way you promised
The way you used to

September even
I'd sneak up to see you
I threw away everything
For you

Now I know
That your blushes and laughs
Were you shyly embarrassed
Not shyly in love

Now I know
That the girl you loved
Cut you off to better everyone
You lost something different

Now I know
That you weren't heartbroken
You were lonely
With no one left but me to lust over

Be real
Be original
Be classy
Be traditional
Love your family
And save me from mine
Tell me nerdy jokes
Make me snort out laughing
Let me adjust to your touch
Be patient enough not to rush
Remember the things I tell you
And open up to me too
Ask me questions
Bandage my cuts
Be my two A.M.
Be yourself
And let me be me

I'm curious...

How did my ExxP parents
Give birth to two IxxJ children?

How did my 'ideal match' parents
Get such a ****** up marriage?

How does my T father
Really feel about and think of his F son?

How much does my ISFJ brother
Hate his INFJ sister for stunting his F growth,
Because our ESTP father, my shadow type, has annihilated mine?

How am I supposed to be able to predict
My ENFP mother's flip-flopping parenting,
Even if we're both NFs?

But where is the place for the people like us?
The artists, the cutters, the solemn observers.
Every INFJ. Every poisoned mind. Every social awkward with so much depth they just might sink.
The ones who have found their soul but are searching for their mind.
The ones who find their mind by losing their marbles.
The misrepresented and misunderstood.
The hurt and the happy.
With a requirement of so much patience and love that no one is willing or able to give.
The ones who make adjustments.
Who hit rock bottom and manage to get back up on their own.
The ones who fall too fast for something out of reach. They end up quietly crashing and burning.
The ones who are living under layers of paint; on their hearts and in their homes. Whose sweetness and innocence are buried somewhere underneath the paint, barely recognizable.
The ones who were born with a fifty year old soul.
Who have a biologically memorized speech that no one will hear; that no one can hear.

I ask you, where will they go, the people like us?