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Dream the day away!

@starrysplendidsky / starrysplendidsky.tumblr.com

23/ Dreamer/ Rain lover/ Nocturnal/ Survivor/ ENFP/ I eat words and drink art.
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INTJ: I am deeply obsessed with stars and astronomy / I think blue is the most beautiful color / I live in a small town, so when I grow up I want to travel the world

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Blue is also my favorite color! 💙

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Skies and clouds

They dwell so far, so wide

Tints of different blues

Like an ocean with slow tide

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From my small town I reach

The dark ultramarine far away

And though my town loves me

I was meant to follow stars, not to stay

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So today I still admire

The planets on the prussian blue

I learn as much as I can

Before it’s my time to move

.

And when the time comes

I pack my backs and look at space

I have memorised the sars and skies

I thank my home for all these days

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Love to space, my problemstic heart

I want to wonder under that blue art

And looking up during the night

It warms my heart that even you might

See that planet

on a different shade of blue

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The problem of identity

In the last few decades, the issue of identity has become so exaggeratedly relevant to our society that it’s become nothing more than a burden and a fetish.

We’re literally obsessed with identity. We’re surrounded by slogans such as: be yourself, be unique, be different, be unconventional, etc.

We’re constantly asking ourselves questions like: What am I? How can I express it in my clothing? What is my culture? How can I find other people like me? How can I show others how special I am? How can I distinguish myself from others?

We’re desperate for shared and stabilising values, we crave reassuring answers to our existential crisis, we need to know that our future is going to run smoothly and comfortably.

We either overload ourselves with too many and utterly useless responsibilities, values, tasks, and beliefs or we furiously try to push them away and act as if we’re the kings of the world.

In the last few decades, we’ve been witnessing a rebirth of religious fanatism, nationalisms, racism, misogyny, misandry, intollerance, idolisation of culture, political and social manichaesism, and a generalised need to put labels on people and things and to ghettoise everything and everyone.

This is especially evident on the internet. Even though this beautiful tool could help us learn new things and meet new people with their different realities, most of us experience the internet in a ghettoised fashion.

We don’t look for new perspectives, different points of view, and info that could make us change our minds or develop more wholesome views. On the contrary, we either look only for likeminded people who might help us strengthen our biases or we try to build ourselves an identity to constantly refine and sell to others.

Now, as I’ve written in other posts, identity is different from the self. The self is the mere feeling of being alive, it’s consciousness and it’s immutable, because it has no qualities. Identity, on the other hand, is something plastic, temporary, artificial, fluid. That’s why we shouldn’t try and give it stable and fixed qualities.

Identity is evanescent and volatile, it should be a tool for creativity, a vehicle of change. Therefore, any identity is temporary and bound to mutate. If it doesn’t, it will obviously start to rot. Nowdays, we’re surrounded by corpses.

I’m not referring only to people who support traditional values, but also to those who are fighting to impose new ones (that will eventually become tradition).

Think about how, for instance, the LGBT community has felt the need to support its own cause (which is actually a good cause) by advancing the myth that we LGBT people are just “born this way”. No, we’re not, and even if we were it wouldn’t imply that we couldn’t change.

Sexuality is a matter of taste and identity, therefore temporary and fluid. If your sexuality hasn’t changed at all through your life, that’s not because sexuality is fixed and innate per se, but because you just have a natural tendency to inner stability and are less prone to a certain kind of change. Either because you’re genuinely less fluid, or because the possibility of change scares you.

If sexuality was actually something fixed and innate for all of us, then it wouldn’t be possible for pedophiles to transform and control their impulses and tendencies. With this last sentence I’m not putting homosexuality and pedophilia on the same moral level, of course. We’re talking about identity here, not morals or legality.

Culture is another aspect in which the matter of identity is becoming extremist and dogmatic.

Nowdays more than ever, we don’t see culture as a richness to share, or as an historical tradition to break and reshape through this sharing. We see it as a divisor, as a watershed to separate us from them, educated people from ignorant ones, our nation from other nations, our religion from other religions, old people from younger people, women from men, whites from blacks etc.

(Note: I used the word black and not African American because this last words choice is a huge divisor: there are black people in Europe, Asia, and Oceania, too, you know, not just in Africa or America. US is not the centre of the world, by the way.)

We see culture as a series of codifications that must be strenghtened and transmitted. Codifications that only people from that same culture can understand.

That’s why we’re in desperate need for art and creativity, right now: we must break the walls we’ve built all around different cultures in order to let them mingle and change.

Since I don’t want to end up writing an essay, let me just add one last example: think about MBTI, and what Jung’s theory has become on the internet, partly thanks to Isabel Myers-Briggs.

Why are you all letting a stupid and faulted test tell you what your Type is? More importantly, why are some people taking said test multiple times, until they are satisfied with the results? Why do you need to be reassured?

Why do people feel the need to find all of the sixteen bloody Types in any given entertainment product? Why must the “coolest” characters always be intuitives?

What is this obsession with intuitives? Why are people so obsessed with rare Types? Why is it so hard for some people to realise that 1%, 2%, or 4% of more than seven billions is not rare at all?

Why do people rely on a test and its statistics to decide what career path they should take, what kind of people they should hang out with, what life choices they should make?

I’ll tell you why, but you’ve probably already guessed it: because we’re obsessed with identity and certainties, and the MBTI community is no exception.

We all want to be special, we all want to express this uniqueness, we all want to feel close to likeminded people, we all feel the need for certainties and reassuring answers. And I wrote we because I used to be like that, too, in the beginning.

Then I asked myself: what the hell am I doing? Don’t you realise how stupid all this is? Is it really important to talk about one’s own uniqueness and quirkiness? Or vent about our supposedly personal problems? Aren’t there more interesting and good things that you could do with this? Don’t you even realise that Psychological Types are not about identity? And how toxic this whole identity culture actually is?

I guess what I’m trying to say with this rambling is that we should give a lot less importance to identity, in order to be free. Or even better, no importance at all.

Identity shouldn’t be something heavy, manifest, thick, idolised, partisan, looked for, fixed, certain, and shared. It should be something light, playful, unimportant, unprejudiced, super partes, creative, flexible.

We should all learn how to live with a light heart, a creative mind, and not even one thought on the issue of identity.

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this is the sort of ache you can’t come back from. it crawls down your throat and settles in the hollow of your bones, carving a home out of the pounding of your heart, the rhythm of your rabbit pulse, the echo of your half-asleep mumblings. it lingers, it stays. and there’s nothing you can do about it.

—sometimes, i find myself looking up from my phone to catch my reflection in the train window, and there are distant city lights flashing through my frizzy hair, a flare of something beyond my tired eyes, gone too quick to be missed properly. and i wonder if you take this same train on weekends, i wonder if you still remember the girl that sat behind you for a year, i wonder if you ever reread that book for no reason other than nostalgia for simpler days. i wonder if you miss taking a small detour walking home. i wonder if i can be more honest than dreaming you on nights i have trouble falling asleep.—

this is the sort of ache you don’t realize you’ve been carrying until it’s too quiet, and all of a sudden you are crying, and you don’t have the words to figure out why. it hurts. you hide under the covers and do your best to weather the storm.

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“If you hear a voice within you say ‘you cannot paint,’ then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced.”

— Vincent Van Gogh

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Ask yourself why you do what you do. Why do you react that way…? Why do you withdraw or want to fight or throw yourself into anything else when faced with stress? Why do you feel the desire to fall back on behaviors & patterns you want to move from when you’re met with a certain situation? You can identify the root, but then you have to pull it. You can get caught up in trying to identify and find the source of your suffering and think when you’ve found it you’re done. Once you find the source & put your attention on it, it begins to dissipate. When you sit with it and work to understand what it’s trying to teach you it dissolves even more. This isn’t a one time process, you can return again and again to the same root source before it’s been dissolved and released. So be patient but continue to examine your actions & speech for self-understanding.

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vijara

if there’s anything i believe in these days it’s my own resilience. no matter how many setbacks i come across i am still actively dreaming the best version of myself into existence each and every day. i am relentless in pursuing what i want and i am patient enough to wait for my efforts to pay off. i’ll make it. i’ll always make it. 

Source: vijara
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ENFP Females I’ve Met (by an INFJ)

This will be followed by an “ENFP Males I’ve Met” post. I just decided to split ENFPs into two posts because I noticed some distinct differences between the two genders.  

What I noticed and observed about them: 

  1. They talk. A lot. I admire how they can talk about anything out of thin air–just to fill the awkward silence (or just for the very sake of talking). However, sometimes they just won’t stop talking. They tend to talk about a lot of different things at once, that even they forget why they were talking in the first place. It’s so amusing. (They’ll keep talking even though no one’s actively listening or paying attention to them). 
  2. If they aren’t talking, there is definitely something wrong. Sure they have their calm and quiet moments, (since they are known for getting drained quite easily for extroverts), but if their silence is accompanied with an emotionless face and cold vibes (totally different from their usual cheery disposition)–then that means they are not in the mood. This side of them will make you miss their loudness (or noisiness). 
  3. One ironic thing I observed about the two ENFP females I know are that they are not morning people. You would think that their sunny attitude would match the morning sun–but no. They are the moodiest and most negative people in the morning. It is just not the right time for them to shine (yet).   
  4. They are rarely on time. Pretty much a continuation on why they aren’t morning people. This is why an early class schedule (or them having to get ready for something early) makes things worse. Both of the ENFP females I know are constantly late to class (and would blame other things for it–such as traffic and other people). They don’t like admitting that they could have gotten out of bed earlier–and not have purposely ignored their alarm (or anyone who attempted waking them up). 
  5. However, if they are going out to see their friends or if they’re going to camp–or some other place where extroverts thrive in– then they will wake up even before the sun rises. Basically, if they’re motivated and excited, they will give their full-on effort. 
  6. They aren’t the most organized females. They prepare their things last-minute, misplace things in their own room, study right before taking their tests–yes, they live dangerously. But for some reason…they still manage to remain unstressed–which is why the same cycle goes on and on. 
  7. When they are in the mood, they are the most energetic, hyper, random, and upbeat people ever. They can easily brighten people’s day. Or well, overwhelm people with their happiness. 
  8. They are super inspiring people. They stand up for what they believe in–even if deep down they’d actually prefer peace and unity with everyone. They are the type of people who are constantly torn between doing what they want and what is right.
  9. I know that the both ENFP females I’ve met had tough childhoods. They were bullied badly for being different, had bad experiences with so-called “friends”, and were judged at a young age. They were pretty much misunderstood. 
  10. Growing up, they learned to embrace their uniqueness– and that’s why they are so good at being no one else but themselves. (I truly admire this about them–they are strong-willed people who know that the ones who don’t accept them aren’t worth their time). 
  11. They dress quirky and don’t mind looking weird or dorky. They are full of surprises. They don’t give a care about what’s “in or “out.” They will wear mismatched socks and a ‘ton of different patterns at the same time and feel like gold. 
  12. They make the corniest jokes (or memorize them) and have a whole portion of pick-up lines and memes in their brain. 
  13. They are so caring and cuddly and clingy. Even to people they had just met. Their actions are as expressive as their mouths.    
  14. They love helping people. They know exactly how it feels to be down, and they wouldn’t dare let others feel the same way. 
  15. They have several groups of friends, yet they still don’t exactly know who their true friends are. They are always on a quest on finding true friendship.
  16. They do get quiet, when they end up in a place where they feel surrounded and outnumbered by people who judge/have judged them. They feel threatened and are unable to hide it–at times. 
  17. They are emotional people. They cry after watching sad movies, happy movies, bad movies, good movies–or after finishing their favorite book. And they will always end up crying–even after reading/watching a really good book/movie a thousand times. 
  18. There are times when they would just isolate themselves– After all, outgoing people also have the urge to just laze around and be couch potatoes too. Reading books and manga, or watching Buzzfeed videos (or just random videos that don’t make sense)–are activities that they like to do during alone time (is what I noticed, at least).
  19. They don’t admit it when they need help. They do show it though. They keep complaining–yet when you offer help to them, they just give that “It’s okay” phrase. But well, they are strong enough to get through it on their own. 
  20. They can almost talk to anyone and everyone–as most extroverts can. But what makes them different is that they even have the ability to be completely civil around people who clearly dislike them.
  21. Despite being such a people-person, they rant a lot about the human race. Check their Twitter or just pay attention to what they’re saying.
  22. Their presence has a big impact. You will feel their mood, whether you want to or not. 
  23. The ENFP females I know are much more friend-oriented than family-oriented. Well–it’s because they get to choose their friends. And that’s completely understandable. 
  24. Making fun of them (such as the way they do things, wear things, or the way they talk) is a big no-no. They are sensitive people beneath their confident and lively exterior. They need as much light as they give us.

Well guys, what do you think? :)  Agree or disagree?

it me

THIS

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“How would I explain this cascading regret of my hesitation to tell you more that I care? How would I explain this flooding sentiment of missing you when you are no longer in this world? I cannot imagine how scared how morbid it would have been for you in that darkness literal darkness slowly shadowing into somewhere none of us have ever been, and I cannot scream of frustration of these feelings I cannot explain for fear you might hear, so all I allow myself to do is to let these words flow along with drops of bitterness from my pen and eyes.”

s.j.l, drained of you (via theprocast)

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water and soap

water and soap

“no” was a, yes please and sinks and skins of skin no was his porcelain face in every corner.

no was every ounce of my being screaming, yet replacing “no” by nothing close to its synonyms.

no was a, end up feeling dirty in my own skin. a, scrub away at it like i’m nothing more than the dishes. or a spoon, or a fork. a, try washing away the smudges, the fingerprints, the leftovers. a, pick me up and use me like a fork pick me up and use me like a spoon a, pick me up and use me like i am a utensil like i am also the meal like i am his to be consumed like i am his to digest

but no- no- i am not his. i am not yours. “no i would not like to” “no i do not want to” “no”, this is where you stop. “no”, this is where you spit me out.

yes, you might have chewed, but you spit me out.

yes, i might spend a lifetime scrubbing away at these dishes, but at least i won’t have to see sinks and sinks of your skin.

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oceanwriting

Don’t know who I became when I wasn’t looking but it isn’t me, I listen to music and make paintings and read novels and go to parties. The gap between us now is getting so small–I can barely tell her apart from me–she looks like me when I touch her face behind the glass–but it’s always from behind the glass–what does she look like? How does her skin feel? Come here and touch me so someone can tell me how I feel. She does not like sex she does not want to be touched she feels like this is something she pays for and gets broken by, when she wakes up she feels so much heavier and never wants to look anyone in the eye ever again. Her heartbeat is so weak, it is the color of pink cotton candy, but not her–she is never soft, not for a second. She’s so sad that she let herself get tricked by the promise of love, I’m so sad that I let myself get tricked by the promise of love, I’m so sorry I did it can I take it back if I promise never to be soft again? She’s impervious to it All and that’s nice but she used to haunt me and these days I haunt her

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ninasdrafts
“after all this time, everything you have left to offer me is a strained smile. forced. fake. i don’t know why you still feel the need to pretend when the only person you’re lying to is yourself. it’s always like this, isn’t it? you spend all this time getting to know someone, just to force yourself to forget about them again. you keep the most foolish details in mind, their bad habits, their pet peeves, what kind of fear keeps them awake at night, just to go back to being strangers. i don’t know how to forget. i’m not sure i want to. the only thing i’m certain of is that i no longer want to look at you pretending to be something you’re not. i’m not sure if you are sorry. not sure if you feel the slightest bit of regret when you see my face among a hundred. do you still feel it? whatever you used to feel when you saw me for the first time and decided to take a step towards me? and another one? and another one? until i could no longer breathe around you and you asked me if i was ready, and then you threw your arms around me. you stayed until you decided to quit walking beside me and started walking all over me. i don’t know how i want you to look at me. i don’t know how i want you to feel about me, to think about me. the only thing i know is that i just want you to stop pretending that we were nothing more than a few cold afternoons in winter, spent together in the hope of saving some warmth. that we opened up to each other because we had to and not because we wanted to. i want you to stop pretending that it meant nothing to you, because i know it did.”

play pretend / n.j.

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cynsyllables
“When you haven’t experienced something for so long you start to not believe in it anymore”

— Cynthia Chapman

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It doesn’t happen like that. You don’t just wake up one day and find that everything has worked itself out. You must get out of bed, morning after morning, and make a conscious effort to control the circumstances of that given day. You must learn to handle your issues with grace because you respect what they are attempting to teach you. You must drown your insecurities slowly, one self-realization at a time. You must allow yourself to feel the fear bubbling just beneath your skin but you must never allow it the satisfaction of crippling you; grit your teeth and march on. You see, they never tell you how hard these things will be. This fight to reclaim yourself is not easy or straightforward but, my god, is it necessary. 

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