I venture that the most important part to any blog would be the actual posts. Too bad I haven’t been writing many. How typically INFP of me.
Considering that INFPs like things open-ended, it’s a bit ironic that we have this tendency towards perfectionism. I want everything to be just right before I dive in, whether it’s finding the perfect time to begin or making sure everything is exactly right before I continue further. Isn’t perfection the end and not the starting point?
My friend Sam messaged me last Monday and asked if I wanted to go see Nine Inch Nails. I’m a Trent fan. I like Trent’s business models but the last time I loved his music, Def Leppard was still getting airplay. Also, I’m broke.
Sam promptly replied that he asked me if I wanted to go, not whether I had money. Because apparently, that’s what friends do. It suddenly hit me that I have friends. It was bound to happen after spending years of free time with the same people.
I don’t like the word friend. I decided to stop having friends in my mid-20’s. Without friends, it’s easier to people fit into two categories: People I like being around and the people I avoided. INFPs idealize friendship. The word friend has subtext.
When I said that a person was my friend, I meant they were my close friend who I could tell about the body secrets to. Everyone else wandered this vast limbo of acquaintance-hood outside the door of my secret club of friends.