Oh so uncomfortable

Picking up from my weakness, my inferior function (Fe) as an INTP; summarized:

Fe seeks social connections and creates harmonious interactions through polite, considerate, and appropriate behavior. Fe responds to the explicit (and implicit) wants of others, and may even create an internal conflict between the subject’s own needs and the desire to meet the needs of others. Fe drives the INTP to desire harmony in community. At their most relaxed, INTPs can be charming and outgoing among friends, or when they have a clearly defined role in the group. When under stress, however, INTPs can feel disconnected from the people around them, unable to use their extraverted Feeling to reach out to others. As their inferior function, Feeling can be a weak point; when threatened they will hide behind a wall of stoic logic. This can lead them to bottle up their emotions to preserve reason and harmony; but a failure to deal with these concealed emotions can lead to inappropriate outbursts. (via Wikipedia)

I’ve never been in love or had any romantic experiences, I’ve no great faith in marriage and I find compromises a necessary evil I would like to try out (or have to try out as society demands) but don’t think would fit me very well. I sometimes think I’m too independent to ever give myself to another human being. Maybe too independent for my own good …

Though I’ve never been in a relationship, I reckon it would be much like what David Keirsey describes accordingly to Rational Role Variants (which, in the case of INTPs, is ‘the Architect’):

“Architects take their mating relationship seriously and are faithful and devoted – albeit preoccupied at times, and somewhat forgetful of appointments, anniversaries, and other common social rituals. They are not likely to welcome much social activity at home, nor will they arrange it, content to leave scheduling of social interactions to their mate. If left to their own devices, INTPs will retreat into the world of books and emerge only when physical needs become imperative. Architects are, however, even-tempered, compliant, and easy to live with – that is, until one of their principles are violated, in which case their adaptability ceases altogether. They prefer to keep their desires and emotions to themselves, and may seem insensitive to the desires and emotions of others, an insensitivity that can puzzle and frustrate their mates. But if what their mates are feeling is a mystery to them, Architects are keenly aware of what their mates actually say and do, and will often ask their mates to give a rationale for their statements and actions.”*

When I’m on a rare occasion is personally confronted with this failed/untried aspect of my life, I bridle and hide. Personal experiences with sex and relationships are some of the few things in life that makes me genuinely uncomfortable to address, whereas many find this very natural to talk about. Everyone seems to expect that you have some experience in this and find it highly unusual if you haven’t. That it has something to do with your character. That it is my own fault. Yet, how can it be my fault? Society has become more and more sexualized and we’re being sexualized from such an early age, the normative way of thinking is that, ‘naturally, you must have tried some of it’ before you’re even 20..! Jeez. It’s not like it’s a grocery list, you know? How can you possibly condemn or judge another human being for things we cannot control. I cannot force myself on somebody or force somebody to like me. Certain things happen when they happen, okay?

Already, I’m instinctively trying to draw this to another and more abstract and objective level; distancing myself, not just in self-defense but because my brain naturally tries to decipher a more general problem within society concerning this.

Ironically, few are willing to discuss out of the heteronormative sphere. It still makes many uncomfortable, and, of course it does – we still have such a long way to go before we all can be comfortable about this. I have no grievances about questioning and discussing sexuality and gender on a higher, more objective level, but I’ve discovered those subjects are still very tender when we’re down on an entirely basic, everyday level, even in such a tolerant, modern country as my own. For instance, people are still (naturally) confused about my gender/sexuality at times, I think, thinking I’m lesbian or something else (I don’t know), though I’m entirely unassuming about my sexuality, finding it matters little regarding how they should judge me as a person. Funny, they never ask, they just presume (I think I see a theme here). I should be flattered but when people always presume and never ask, it starts to leave a bitter-sweet taste in the mouth. ‘Then do something about it!’, some might say. Like what? Not being myself? Being someone else? One you would expect me to be..? Or how about ‘putting myself more out there’? (Yuck, hate that sentence!) I refuse to dress or behave according to any heteronormative expectations about ‘how to attract the opposite sex’. Bleah! I have no intention of dressing up for anyone but myself, and if people don’t find me interesting, well, then they are not the right people.

Yet, scaringly, I even find myself sometimes thinking it is weird for a 25-year-old having none of those above-mentioned experiences. Just writing about it makes me uncomfortable. Huh, you should see me actually trying to verbalize it to someone. We’re talking major mental block, tongue-tied, lots of squirming and red face/eye averting alert. OK, so, either I’ve just been unlucky with meeting the right guys (it’s not like I can’t to talk to them; actually it’s the opposite quite often) or I send them some special vibe that tells them ‘I’m sorta the cool tomboy/sister type you can totally hang out with and discuss weird nerd stuff with but wouldn’t otherwise think anything of’…? Huh. I guess I do not give off the traditional, feminine kind of vibe – but what the fuck is that, anyway..?! Some institutionalized, heteronormative way of categorizing what is female and what is male when these categories don’t even exist but were just made up long ago when people didn’t know better..!! Ugh, it makes me so angry when I think of all those who suffer under these restrictive ideas – well, all of us do, really, even if we don’t realize it. Which is exactly why it is a problem.

So, now we’ve ended with the aggressive defense mechanism. See? I cannot help totally overanalyzing myself. I honestly don’t know what I get out of this – other than I get to vent and whine. My generation do so love to whine, after all, they say.


*revised 05/04/18*


Procrastination of a nighthawk

Is there a gold medal in procrastination? In that case, I should win it. Hell, I’m procrastinating right now, writing this. A common tendency among INTPs, they say. Putting off the inevitable. ‘Why do it today, when you can do it tomorrow?’ Yeah, not all that practical an attitude. But I just can’t help it. Something to do with how the logics of my mind works. Go look it up.

On top of that, I’m an incarnated nighthawk; my circadian rhythm resembling that of an owl. I go to bed late and get up even later. When necessary, I appear and disappear from the hole in my tree, making sure not to get too noticed, especially not by anyone I know, while I blink owlishly at the cashier as I buy enough food to last a week. Most of the time, I sit in my ‘tree’, thinking and contemplating about life, preferring my own company or that of a close, equal-minded friend. I find I think better at night; it is more peaceful and undisturbed, no one to interfere. I’m fascinated, spellbound, by the night; so quiet and dark; how everyone is asleep and wondering who is awake, besides me.



On alcohol

I never really liked alcohol and partying which seemed all the other young kids ever did when they first hit puberty. So, of course, I kept this statement to myself most of the time. It wasn’t looked kindly upon from any side.

To say I was confused about this unanimous ritual among my peers is an understatement.

I’ve never felt the need for alcohol or getting wasted. My brain is my most treasured quality; I’d never want to sedate it like that! Don’t get me wrong: I treasure having fun. But I treasure memory just as much.

Besides, I’m too physically sensitive towards alcohol; I get too tired too quickly or just get tipsy and silly in a way I don’t like.

Yes, for a moment I just don’t give a damn which can be freeing, but I’ll never allow myself to get entirely wasted, thus I do remember what I said and did while intoxicated and I just don’t recognize myself. I feel ashamed.

I’m not totally opposed to alcohol and can enjoy regulated amounts when the occasion calls for it, so I have been slightly intoxicated but never drunk as a skunk; reeling and puking and waking up with a hangover and no memory of the night before. I’m utterly repelled by the thought of going through that.

Of course, some would argue that being slightly intoxicated ‘unfortunately’ means one remembers ‘last night’ and how one behaved – and ‘who would want that?’

Well, if ‘getting fucked’ is the only point of drinking I pity you, but I do not blame you nor do I want to moralize about individual choices. I can only speak for myself and where that places individuals who dare oppose such ‘rituals’ and what I see as a larger, societal problem – at least, in my country – but I’ll get to that in a bit.

I like to believe I can have fun (and be funny) without intoxicants. Normally, at parties, I prefer observing and participating with a clear head and I can still have a great time.

However, I never was a party animal; I can only manage for so long. Being an introvert it is quite draining to be social, no matter what. I’ve felt the need to forget about life and its worries, but never with alcohol. I’ve never felt the need to let loose like that. And I do not need alcohol to disappear; I just go into my head, use my imagination. I can get drunk on music, books, films, art, good conversations, etc. and the only kind of true hangovers I have are these ones.

Like Fernando Pessoa once wrote: “Everyone has his alcohol. To exist is alcohol enough for me. Drunk from feeling, I wander as I walk straight ahead. When it’s time I show up at the office like everyone else.”


Not to mistake this with a ‘holier-than-thou’-attitude, but I simply cannot understand the incessant need my peers have for the kind of oblivion that involves walking in a constant alcohol-induced fog – without thinking at all!

I get that it is the most common option for having fun, but I can’t help finding it somewhat problematic that so many find it so necessary to let loose like that so often.

Why is that? Are they too worked-up by worries and problems in their daily lives, of always presenting the best version of themselves, always performing to the fullest, too insecure, too many expectations to live up to? Well, I get that, since that is our currently fawlty society in a nutshell, and I don’t see myself without worries and insecurities either, but again, I’ve never felt the need to drown my sorrows. Maybe I just haven’t lived a full life (well, I am only 25), maybe I don’t have the great need for socializing in the first place, maybe I’ve been fortunately spared from most sorrows in life, maybe I’m just so lucky to be content with other ways of ‘intoxicating’ myself without the help of alcohol and drugs. Maybe it’s just that.

But it still baffles me that people say they drink to loosen up, open up, be social, have fun and, well, get laid, when too often afterwards they complain and regret time and time again having done all this while being drunk, because it rarely was the outcome they’d wanted. If they even remember what they did to the persons around them, that is. I’ve witnessed many shrugging off that paricular aspect with frightening frequency. As long as they had fun. Didn’t they …?

Sure, alcohol loosens the tongue, but I’ve seen very different types of drunks, up-close even, and not every person benefits from having their tongue loosened. I’ve seen otherwise lovable, sweet people turn into ugly, sneering, bitter people, too depended on their drink and too oblivious about those around them and the subtle hurt they inflict on them by ‘opening up’ and become careless. Boy, the list of things I’ve witnessed and overheard in my young life-time: Broken arms, cracked skulls, ruined livers, young kids dragging their drunk parents home, others finding themselves abandoned by the road and nearly asphyxiating in their own vomit, and some close-to-irrevocable consequences for generations to come following intense drinking binges and escapades among grown-up school mates and friends. And this isn’t even the worst on the list.

And here I wonder: Is that really the price to pay? Should alcohol give cause to this? To so much damage? Some of those former ‘drinking buddies’ argued that smoking was more dangerous or that getting hit by a car was a more likely cause of death than alcohol. Sure, I thought listening to their unsurprisingly unanimous rant. But weren’t they overlooking the giant elephant in the room?

The gulf between me and everybody else on this subject sometimes seems so great. I’ve only met a few people who felt the same way as I did and even they were reluctant to admit it and stand by it when they were at parties with friends. Because we still want to be there; at the parties – with our friends! (No matter what I say about partying not being my nirvana, I don’t necessarily despise it either). We just don’t like not getting to choose or being judged or shunned by standing by our choices. We too want to enjoy ourselves and party – just without alcohol. It is possible, you know. And we don’t want to ban all alcohol, simply because we say ‘no‘ to alcohol. We just want the right to choose. Just like everyone else.

In my country, alcohol is so integrated in basically every tradition, festivity and celebration across all generations with great historical resonance, equalling coziness and good times, that saying ‘no’ to it is extremely taboo – and I’m not understating this. You cannot have a festivity here without having a drink! Alcohol is simply a part of the community. And if you say ‘no’ to alcohol, in some sense, you say ‘no’ to be a part of the community.

It is a severe problem that young kids (and we’re talking down to 12-year-olds) think the only way of letting loose, having fun and get together is through alcohol and they begin to drink often and heavily all through their teen years and well into their 20s and even 30s. And when those who say a single ‘no’ this one time are more or less regarded as freaks…

How misguided is that?!

I’m not kidding. I’ve experienced first-hand, again and again and again, from schoolmates to family, friends, colleagues, even total strangers etc..

The people of my country are generally very liberal and relaxed about things many countries would go off the deep end about, that’s sorta the way we roll, but there’s a catch to this, of course. If you resist the rituals contained to this relaxed culture, you are already ostracized even if you try to moderately and politely participate. Even those who say it’s entirely okay not wanting to drink (the typical response, besides ‘Whaaat?!’. As if I needed their permission in the first place!), I see it in their eyes and behavior that they’re not used to people actually saying ‘no’ to alcohol. (You should see when you say no to cake or sweets … It’s like you’ve suddenly grown a second head or something). That I’m regarded as somewhat of a prude, that I’m not a risk-taker, that I do not allow myself to have fun or want to join the community. Really? Because I said ‘no’ once or twice? Because I simply don’t fancy alcohol all that much I’m suddenly a anti-social prude who can’t have fun? Only those who don’t know you would say something as careless as that. And you suddenly realize just how important alcohol is to so many people when you meet this reaction again and again. Suddenly, the oh-so-celebrated liberal-mindedness becomes a bit hypocritical.

There’s a lot of (unspoken) peer pressure going on in every generation concerning this. It’s funny to see how other countries make it out as such a big deal when it happens, whereas in my country it’s totally taken for granted and laughed at when studies show just how much we drink. Parents often encourage their kids to drink because it’s already so heavily integrated in family and holiday gatherings in the first place. It’s sickening! And when it becomes a part of the sense of community, a cultural ritual, it is so much harder to let go off. If we had been talking about a religious ritual it would have seemed less significant and scandalous to refuse because our country is already so secularized. But this is a highly socially integrated ritual and not as easy and legitimate to excuse yourself from.

*revised 5/12/17*


On language and truth

I know there’s a lot of theory out there about INTPs and though I may not be 100% INTP I’m damn well close and though each INTP is her/his own and cannot be put in a single category, I do tend to contest with some of the major conclusions made about INTPs. Such as being a pedantic rule-follower who keeps correcting people when they make grammatical mistakes. I don’t think I could be farther from it, since I tend to make up my own words and constantly mix up proverbs. In core alignment to the INTP this just doesn’t make sense either; being stagnant. If we hate absolutes, being ‘grammar Nazis’ (those buggers grate me as much as they amuse me) are the last things we want to be, am I right?!

I believe that language – if anything! – is multifaceted, complex, dynamic and guided by change and context. There are certain guidelines, sure, especially in writing, but even those are gradually adjusted and rearranged. Time and change does that. To everything. It shouldn’t be seen as wrong, but wonderful and human how language can be used. Always viewed and discussed critically, of course, but still, it is just so very fascinating when people spice things up in that way, I find.

Also, I think most INTPs are truthseekers but rather than seeking the truth we believe – like Allen Ginsberg said it: “I don’t think there is any truth. There are only points of view.”

There’s never one answer, but several and everyone is legitimate. That’s why most INTPs also are agnostics since we can neither deny nor confirm the existence of a god, several gods or no god(s) at all. We’re the curious in-betweeners, so to speak, who like to question rather than answer.


Expectations suck.

Especially others’ expectations. But I guess we all have them. Myself included. Bloody hypocrite.

Back to my streak of stubborness that always rears up its ugly head when someone demands or expects something of me. My tendency to go against the stream can get a tad out of hand. Such as being fairly demonstrative whenever I feel my free will and independency are being violated. Which I feel a lot, though it isn’t always the case. And my mind and instinct naturally tell me not to give into others’ demands. So annoying. It’s not that I’ve never done something out of a sense of duty or simply because I want to help. I always have, I feel. How often that gesture has been returned is another matter. I know; cry-baby, right? I know I come off as a petulant child through my rantings, but a gal can only do so much before she starts to question whether she’s merely a part of the tapestry or not. So, yeah, I have expectations, too. I don’t expect much but a little goes a long way. Not that there hasn’t been gratitude, often because of the smallest of things, and I don’t know why I don’t feel anything particular about such gratitude or praise. Only for a moment or so.

I’ve read that INTPs rarely feel anything about either praise nor criticism. Not anything personal at least. I guess that fits me. However, my ‘Mr. Hyde side’ – my big ego – has, of course, not been entirely unfeeling to praise nor criticism during the years. It just didn’t do much in the end. Essentially – and as our dear Peggy Carter says: “I know my value. Anyone else’s opinion doesn’t really matter.” That I keep questioning this value is my own business, not theirs. Their opinions interest me on a mere analytical level in matters of how I am viewed from the outside. Yet, I know they do not know me entirely, so they won’t be able to hurt my core, so to speak. I’m rather careful about that one. I’m used to people not taking genuine interest in me. Only if some of their observations happen to be spot on, I get surprised. I take them into consideration of my self-image and often they either confirm what I know or they are wrong and I discard them.

I still get hurt, though. I am human, after all. When strangers sling out ignorant slurs about my person I get hurt. Most of my life, really. School was toughest, but again, it always is, isn’t it? Though, I’ve always known something was wrong with them, not me, if so. Kids are kids. It has happened once or twice in my adulthood, too, either to my face in ‘faux-jest’ which I could take and hit right back, or overheard – which was a downright nasty experience, because you would think people grow up, don’t you?! Huh, apparently, some people just stay ugly inside and out. C’est la vie, I guess. I’m far from the only one who has been on the receiving end of such matters. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?

I just don’t know whether that ‘strong-ness’ has been that benefitial for me. Made my hard, cynical side more hard and cynical and my soft, sentimental side more soft and sentimental. They are two sides of the same coin, yet battle against each other constantly. Two, dependent poles colliding and repelling each other. Huh, I’m becoming like my parents, aren’t I? Some sick joke played by the universe, no doubt. I’m at war within myself. Yeah, and I have a flair for the dramatic, too. Sue me.

I’m still prone to close myself off from the world and wallow in self-pity, excuses and rationalization, and at the same time, acting more honest and blunt about myself and the world when I’m around people. I don’t give a fig what they think any longer. I know I’m weird. As a matter of fact, I revel in that fact; use it as my weapon! I’d say there’s something wrong with you if you’re not just a little bit weird. They can’t hurt me with that any longer and I’m bloody proud to have come to this stage of my life!

Richard Ayoade2


Feelings? Why, of course, I have feelings!

I would strongly argue that INTPs do not not understand feelings, since we do have feelings (helloo); we just don’t entirely know how to handle or deal with them other than with and through a logical mind – an objective perspective – which isn’t always appropriate or useful. Because when every answer is, by principle, legit, no answer seems really appropriate or helpful in its logic sense, so – in my case – I tend to just shrug, smile sheepishly and say ‘Yeah, I guess that sucks’ or ‘Yeah, that probably would help…?’ or ‘Well, if you feel like that, I guess you feel like that..’, when people ask ‘should I do this or should I do that in regards of this emotion or this person?’. Not very helpful. Of course, we can always be the voice of reason when someone has an emotional outcry of some sort, and it can cool things down, but whether or not it is entirely helpful depends on the situation and matter, I guess. Sometimes people just need a shoulder to cry on and to hear people say they understand and feel with them, even if they don’t. I’ve tried to do this even though I totally suck at it. I have (fortunately?) not been on such emotional roller-coaster rides myself as many people have, so when people despair and say ‘…you know?’ after every sentence, I simply cannot truly identify and I feel my answers are so weak, dishonest and helpless because I cannot rationalize and prompt people to use their brain when it is their heart they are talking about. It’s not like I don’t have a heart, but the road to it is so often through my brain. I think before I feel. Or rather, even when I feel first, my brain struggles to interfere and rationalize my feelings. That, of course, doesn’t always end well for either parts and I tend to blurt out before it is thought through. My Inferior function, my weakness, is, after all, extraverted Feeling (Fe).

To embrace my nerdiness: I am a Ravenclaw (bordering on Gryffinclaw) through and through, in case you hadn’t already deciphered that:

Intelligent and insightful, Ravenclaws are not ones to classify people under any certain category. Instead they often ponder on humanity, what is good, what is evil and why we should classify people as one or the other. Ravenclaws are very philosophical, and often you may see them simply staring off into space, but this is not in some brainless manner, in fact they are exploring the gears of their mind and trying to figure out how the world works. Ravenclaws are focused on their work, but they often don’t need effort. They tend to pick up on every detail and remember it without even trying, something that others may be skeptical of or be jealous of. This can give some a sense of superiority and the idea they should tell everyone the right way to do something, which can easily make others, especially nervous Hufflepuffs or emotional Gryffindors, very irritated. Ravenclaws are very analytic, and this can be very good or very bad. For the kind-hearted this will be a way to help others, for the dark they can use this to twist and manipulate. Ravenclaws are not every emotional, instead they tend to put up a wall and not let anyone in except for perhaps their closest friends or family. Instead they pick at the minds of others, trying to figure out how they work and to see if they themselves are different, or just the same as everyone else. Psychologists, professors and investigators are often Ravenclaws.*

But I guess, people still find some comfort in my answers. They certainly unload their burdens on me, sometimes coming to me for help on various matters and I listen patiently and try to help as best as I can. I am no good at sweet-talking and I prefer honesty, which I hear mirrored among other INTPs as well. I also recognize the feeling of not always being acknowledged when this happens. People talk and talk because I am there to listen and they need to unburden themselves, but they seldomly care for listening to me for more than a couple of minutes. I feel like I am used as a vessel – or an honest mirror that in return reflects upon their self-image. Self-pitying, I know, but there seems to be a pattern among INTPs. It is indeed frustrating though I feel it is the one thing I can give the world and the people around me. A double-edged sword I must live with.

The emotional investment has been on a minimum, that’s for sure. But who am I to talk? I don’t handle emotions all that well. Yet, that doesn’t mean I don’t feel them. Because, boy oh boy, do I feel them sometimes. In a sort of ‘all or nothing’ state.

After all, the words of Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf and Charlotte Brontë resonate with my soul and they were all believed to be INFPs. Feelers. They can truly express what I feel and I secretly try to do the same. When I write, these things seem to flow. In writing they are profound, heart-breaking. When spoken they seem pathetic somehow. But you can already see the difference in prose, style and stance between Virginia and Jane Austen, for example, who was an INTP. The way they ‘attack’ life, so to speak. Both achingly astute about their own time and sex but in different ways. With different perspectives and yet together they give voice to the female sex as human beings, not just ‘women’, and make us out as we are: so much more complex than inherently perceived in a patriarchal society throughout time. But I digress.

People tend to say that I appear so very cool and self-contained in times of stress. Maybe I do. I know I can appear aloof at times when everybody else is reacting differently which has been cause for some irritation on their parts, almost admonishing me for not ‘reacting as expected’. On the other hand, I often find myself making faces and snickering at people’s antics and conventional, social habits when no one else does. Before I discovered MBTI I always wondered why. Now I get it.


One step ahead, two steps behind

I find myself thinking like a chessplayer (despite not having the patience for chess); always thinking one – or a million – possible steps ahead, my mind churning and churning ’till I exhaust myself. Such a line of thinking has consequences for every decision I make or am about to make – any decision in the future, too. It’s halting and infuriating, to say the least.

I saw this documentary about Bobby Fischer (much debated whether he was an INTP or INTJ) which really freaked me out, because I realized the balance between (mad) genius and self-destruction is so damn fine. I can’t begin to compare myself to Fischer (also given his, in the end, severe mental instabilities), but it gave food for thought to see such a talented man’s quick down spiral.

I know the feeling of being utterly consumed by one’s thoughts and ideas – finding oneself utterly brilliant and everything impossibly interesting – and not letting anyone else influence you. ‘So many things to inspect, so little time and so many weird looks from people!’ As if the brain itself is resisting outer forces as well as being at war with itself. And it’s out of your control. A dangerous cocktail indeed. However irritating and grating it feels to be disturbed in these mad, ingenius thought processes, it is in this critical time you need something or someone to get you down to earth again. In a calmly, respectful and understanding manner, of course. And that rarely happens, unfortunately.

I’ve tried it once or twice; coming dangerously close to a sort of madcap state of being which was both entirely exhilariting and entirely frightening. It may sound like I was on drugs but I have no need for drugs. I have my mind. And I can merely starve my body from its daily sustenances and cycles, then I’ll get delirious. I bet everyone has tried it, intentionally or not. Sleep-deprivation is the best stimulant, actually. Combined with a lack of food and drink, everything becomes hazy and clear at the same time. (Of course, mix in caffeine and I’m off!) The pulse throbbing and blood pumping almost unnaturally in a confused, exhilarated cry – both in jubilee and for help. Like the body’s natural way of drugging itself. And my mind – dear lord, my mind..! It was like a steaming freight train off the rails! The thoughts multiplying and accumulating faster than the fake horcruxes in Bellatrix Lestrange’s Gringotts vault! It was madcap awe-inspiring and scaring! You have no idea the amount of stuff I got done during it! Sounds crazy, right? Though, I would contest that it doesn’t sound nearly as crazy as drugging your body with those truly psychotic, foreign chemicals you normally call ‘drugs’. That’s just barmy! Not that I didn’t get a rush from this and could easily become addicted in some sorts by doing this routine. I definitely have to keep my mind and instinct in a leash.

Unfortunately, when this was happening, I was merely laughed at for being silly by my family (a common occurence) because they think of me more as ‘the nutty professor’ and rarely take me seriously. And I guess that’s healthy enough considering my ego. To be taken down a notch, become less self-important (but then again, at that moment, I feel everything is goddamn important!). Yet, sometimes they lack tact and in this instance it felt highly hurtful and degrading to be teased and ignored. Of course, that curbed my delirious enthusiasm and replaced it with hurt and anger. I went to my room like another sullen child and cursed them all to hell, but eventually I cooled down. I got numb. And so very, very tired. I truly felt the ‘low’ of my ‘high’; the mental hangover sweeping across my entire being, rending me silent inside and out. A strange experience, all in all, indeed. I’ve never done it to such an extreme before and I doubt it will be the last time, but I will have to take care not to be too careless about this use of method. Again: Ingeniusly efficient but not conventionally practical.