I’m tired of being sad and having no clue as to why I am this way, so I’ll write about the happy bits of me and why I smile. I dance when I’m alone, when the music gets just right and I’m sure that no one is watching, it’s okay to feel lonely, I used to not like the idea of it, but once you’re comfortable in your own skin even depression starts to feel like a breeze. I’m reading a book that says we are the beliefs and thoughts that we think and believe in. So if I say that I’m happy a thousand times, one of those will come back as true. So if I say I’ll find the love of my life some day, some day she’ll appear in front of me while I’m writing another poem. It’s good to have goals, the only goal I’ve ever had up until recently was to keep myself happy with someone else, that’s not a goal, but an illusion. You can’t live your life for someone else, it’s called your life for a reason. Happiness must happen when I say so, so I’m saying so. We bring into this world the kind of kindness that we’ve been dealt, so when I fake a smile, my mother is omnipresent. Although it’s not real, fake it until you make it, right? The book also says, spend more time doing things that make you lose track of time, so I decided to write again and more often than not, to not compare myself to others because once you start doing that, there’s no going back. I don’t write like someone else, I write like myself. I don’t think like anyone that I know, there’s just you and the beautifully twisted world, we’re all trying to find redemption inside of coral skies and trustworthy friends. I would break my own hand to contain my anger, it is contained. Happiness is what we make it, so if I say that it exists, then it will be so. Listening to your guidance, that makes me happy. You know who you are. Breathless to the words, you paint the sunrise with your pinky and promise that as long as I’m here today, tomorrow will not be filled with sorrow. I keep writing letters to the future person that I will be, I wonder if I’ll change. I probably will, we all do in one way or another. I’m the kind of person that snaps a picture of the sky while I’m driving, I’m reckless, but we’re still alive. Life’s too short and I need to be more careful, I’m certain that death has given up a few passes for me. Do you ever feel like you’re running out of time? Like there’s something trying to make a statement, a lost word that even google couldn’t even get its hands on. Do you ever feel like no one’s really listening? We’re all selfish in the end, but the ones that truly listen– they are the ones that I live for. I maintain online friendships better than I do with my siblings, I guess our thinking is just on different frequencies. On the topic of frequencies– the you that you would like to be is out there, you just need to listen. Hear the right words said by the right person and you’ll be in the right spot to be the you that you’d want to be in this life. Do you ever feel like you’re not good enough? Remember that thing I said about thoughts? Sometimes we just need to let go a little bit, embrace the art of it. To be left to the wind, the unknown will bring us to more adventures and you may not be loved by many, but there’s a chance that you will be– why not take it? I would like to break out of this, I want to smile more and to laugh a little louder, I just want to make myself proud of who I will be versus who I used to be. And you can’t turn back the hands of time, you cannot change your mistakes– they are permanent, but you are not. There is a fire inside of your chest and if you keep suffocating yourself with an indescribable pain then you’ll only suffer in a incomprehensible way. I just want to fill this world with more love and less pain, I see a butterfly and I’m easily distracted– how beauty will fly past you if you’re not even paying attention because you’re so damn sad all of the time. So I drop all signs of negativity and lean towards the positive, I am the only vibe that’ll alter my moods, so I must feel more wealthy than a million silver spoons even if I don’t have any, so I must create the art that likes to spill from my fingertips, we live such short lives– why not be the best version of yourself? Who will you be if tomorrow was your last day on this planet? Will you cry because it’s over? Or will you search the ends of the earth until you’ve found the fountain of youth? I’ve got a secret to share with you. You can be a 100 years old and still have the sweetest smile, you can be in your 20s and have a soul heavy enough to sink the titanic, life is strange, life is strange. We live our youth to buy pretty things, but live our oak days trying to make up more time– it waits for no one, the wrong turn will break you, a simple kiss will turn your thoughts into poetry and a life of self-hate is a road that needs constant validation– why not be your own way out? Be your own lover, be your own brand of music, be your own kind of poem, be your own story of kindness, and if you’re not perfect just look around– nobody is. I’m tired of dreaming, I want to build it instead. You can’t be who you want to be if you’re still having the same thoughts from last year– you can’t change or heal in the right way if you’re not willing to break a few pieces of your heart because the clutter inside of our minds often match the attitude that we give off. So like a quote, so like a poem, so like a bedtime story. If I repeat it enough times, I’ll be happy. I just want to be happy. I just want to let go of the bad feelings. I just want to love myself enough to see a brighter day. You can’t change the world if you can’t even change yourself, right? If I repeat it enough times, then it must be real. I will be happy. Sadness is a crucial emotion because without it, being delighted and euphoric wouldn’t be so dense, but that’s the beauty of the intensity to which we should love ourselves. I want to be so fucking glad to wake up today that it’ll just drown my depression into the white noise. I want to glow in the dark and live like the jellyfishes, give my poetry the immortality to always bring a smile onto the faces of those that love who I am even if I’m a bit flawed because at the end of the day– you’re the only one sleeping on your bed, you’re the only one who’s going to determine if you’ve got enough room to breathe, you’re the only one to have the last say if you’re art or not.
I wanted to write something happy for you–
yes, you. The person that’s reading this.
these are some pretty important things i think people should know bc it could help them w/ their character development or story in general. enjoy!
• sodapop would’ve joined dally in dirty talking cherry and marcia. and if they were greaser girls, ponyboy would’ve joined in as well.
• daLLY IS A FUCKING ASSHOLE WHO HAS JUMPED LITTLE KIDS BEFORE AND AN OLD MAN FOR HIS RING. HE’S NOT GONNA CHANGE HIS ENTIRE FUCKING PERSONALITY FOR YOUR CHARACTER.
• johnny is really good at hiding his emotions. he’s also a brave little shit who can get real sassy sometimes. yes, he is meek and shy, but when he feels the need he can be tough.
• steve is still in school. repeat after me, stEVE IS STILL IN SCHOOL AND ONLY WORKS PART TIME.
• the guys only watch their swearing and behavior around cousin-type girls. if your character is a new friend of pony’s who’s coming over for the first time, the gang isn’t gonna be super-duper nice to her and accept her 100%. they will probabaly be jerk-faces for a lil while, then chill out after she proves herself.
• two-bit wanted to drive to texas to look for ponyboy and johnny.
• darry goes skiing with his friends sometimes and was voted boy of the year. he was a popular, fun guy before he became the dad figure in the curtis household. yeah, he’s hella mature and dad-like now, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to have fun.
• johnny was a good man in a rumble. i repeat : JOHNNY WAS A GOOD MAN IN A RUMBLE. HE COULD KICK ASS, OKAY.
• in the book, ponyboy kicked soc ass during the rumble. he is young and emotional, but he isn’t helpless. i personally hated the way the movie depicted him during the rumble; just letting the socs beat him up and crying out for darry the minute it begins. if you read the rumble excerpt, he obviously isn’t the best fighter but he can defend himself pretty well and can take a punch.
• johnny can take a whipping with a 2 by 4 without letting out a whimper. he isn’t gonna be on the floor unconscious after a punch to the gut, please and thank you.
• cherry is afraid of dissapointing her parents if they see her hanging with pony. i personally believe that cherry overcomes that fear and apologizes to ponyboy after ignoring him at school, and they become good friends. but the only true reason she doesn’t want to be seen with ponyboy is because of her parents. we see she clearly doesn’t really care about half of her “friends” or what she’s supposed to do as a soc (beer blasts and river bottom parties), so why would she care if her other friends saw her with pony?
Ok so where "do I find the ENXP crowd"? Preferred habitat? Likes? Mating rituals? What to do if I spot one? Do they bite?
Haha, okay, I’m glad you asked because I’ve been procrastinating on making a post like this for awhile and now I gotta. So here goes. Also guys, I’m dividing this male/female so I’m sorry if it doesn’t apply to you, but I don’t have time for any more descriptions (this is gonna be long)
As written by a female ENTP who knows many ENXPs…
How to find ENTPs
Male ENTPs look like the rest of the typical dudes around at first glance. But on closer inspection, they probably have a haircut that is supposed to be trendy but isn’t well-maintained and they also probably have crazy socks, or a crazy scarf, or are making some sort of stupid joke as you observe them
They joke all the time. Like there is not a time when you’re talking to them and they’re not thinking or talking about jokes. Could be memes, funny animals, slogans or advertisements…really just anything humorous. And they spew it.
They’re the annoying ones in the room. ENTPs are called “class clowns” but honestly I don’t find that to be a super accurate description of us since we’re pretty darn ambiverted. So it’ll be the guy in your class or office that’s really annoying yet funny and has outrageous philosophical or political views. Or has a crazy backstory/family life. Something crazy, I promise
Can be pretty shy or socially awkward, many ENTPs have Asperger’s
They are very silly and tacky. They wear comical shirts, have smirky expressions all the time, and are actual super softies. Like we’re talking hopeless romantic softie if they’re not super unhealthy. The stereotype is that ENTPs are “bouncy” with relationships and go from partner to partner, but that is largely untrue for both sexes. We may have a lot of partners, but we typically go into the relationship at least trying to make it work long term. It’s only that we break up with people a lot based on the fact that we feel like there’s a lot of stagnancy/we get bored/think that our partner is incompatible with us since we’re “hiding” our true selves, etc.
Really bad at using social media
Most guys only have a few pictures on their pages, if they have a social media page at all (this is personal experience, not true for all of them, just seems to be a trend)
Wide variety of skills/ineterests/hobbies
ENTP friend loves skiing, lifting, exercising…and then is unhealthily obsessed with pug puppies and memes
Are usually friends with the STP crowd or the NF crowd, either or
Does usually have another NTP friend that’s pretty close to them
I would like to apologize for The Holmenkollen Disqualification Festival, even though I had nothing to do with this. Sepp went rogue because he wanted to contribute additional rawness towards the tournament.
It was late December and the previous night I came back from a ski trip with friends. Up in the mountains, no radio, no mobile phones, no nothing, this was communist Romania so we only found out in the train back that our world started to move. That Romanians had enough of that so called “communist dream” and started to fill up the streets, marching and demanding to overthrow that monument of corruption called the Romanian Communist Party, starting with its dreaded leader Ceausescu…
After a few hours of worried sleep I woke up in the late morning in the sound of chants coming form the main street. My mother was looking stunned out the window. “Look at them, they are coming from the Bargaie. They must have gathered at the factories there to march into town. They must be crazy, poor blokes… Securitatea are shooting at people on the streets you know? And the army… There are already victims everywhere, in Cluj, in Timisoara…” I looked out the window and felt like hardening every second “…and what are we doing now, mom?” “We? We… just wait here…” “But we cannot wait, mom! We cannot wait here… we must go and see what’s going on! Waiting here is, is, is just wrong!” said defiantly the teenager I was at the time. My mother started to weep “But, but your father? He’s out to get the daily bread ratio, he will be worried as hell seeing we’re missing?” “He will know where we are. Let’s go.” And off we went, scared but with no regrets, because we had to go. We met dad in the main square by sheer chance later, chanting with the others, and the rest is already known.
27 years later, the followers of that communist party had time to slowly morph into a proper mafia. They abandoned any illusion of ideology and thus, freed by the burden of maintaining principles, finally managed to attain full political control of the country. This week they started to modify the laws to fit their corrupt ways, to pardon their already jailed mafiosi, to make abuse and malpractice legal and to restrict whistleblowing. I’m thousands of kilometers away from that country now, but I know I must get out on the streets again - with the same deep hatred but more prowess. We are hundreds of thousands on the streets, again.
PINK SKIES — you are my favorite everything. been telling girls that since i was 16. shut up, i love you. you’re my best friend. ( pink skies, lany )
REQUEST — archie comforts his best friend.
WORD COUNT — 2.3k
NOTES — a late v-day gift from me in the form of head-over-heels archie and his aloof best friend, the reader. this was originally going to be a quick little piece about y/n spraining her ankle and archie being her overprotective boyfriend; somewhere along the line, it ended up becoming archie trying to keep y/n’s mind off jason on her first valentine’s day without him. ( requests: open )
one thing I’ve started doing recently is: taking pictures of very ordinary things. I’ve spent years taking pictures of amazing moments, incredible adventures with friends, skies that looks like painting and stuff I feel grateful I’ve had the chance to experience with my own eyes. but do you have a pictures of the street you live in? the front of the house you’ve been living most of your life? I don’t have a single picture of my mom’s old red car, the one she used to bring me to school every day (and that our cat sneaked in to gave birth to three kitties on the backseat of it) I don’t have pictures of my old bedroom with the lovely lilac walls. I don’t have even a single picture of the jumper I’ve worn so many times I had to throw it away because it was ruined. not a picture of our front door that once my dad painted pink “just because why not”, and my sister’s lovely dollhouse. I am sorry for that - I’ve spent so many time looking for the “extraordinary things” forgetting all the rest