Little-infj-cafe - Littleinfjcafe's Blog

sometimes intimacy is a field standing between you and the person you want most.

What the hell even is intimacy anymore? It feels like that word is everywhere. ‘The intimacy of this, the intimacy of that’. It’s a little funny, how I seem to complain of that wording in spite of the opener of this post. But truth be told— I’m not complaining. Not about the core value and notion of the sentiment. Sure, I think people could be more original with titles— but that’s just a nitpick. I’m glad people are realising there’s an intimacy in almost everything. An intimacy in life’s small pleasures, an intimacy in perhaps a breakup or a falling out. Intimacy is a word that triggers the human psyche— brings intrigue and sometimes, I think, for a lot of us— it can bring a sense of anxiety. And with that being said— if your idea and sense of intimacy is not much beyond something like physical relations, well— then maybe you won’t understand the nuance of what I and a lot of other people are saying and coming to realise. Intimacy, in my eyes, goes so much beyond the physical. To be intimate— to look into the eyes of someone, to laugh, to cry, to be perceived. It’s all sickly intimate. Oh, as I type this in my late afternoon, I’m coming to realise how much I am hating that word. Simply because it has bern dulled down to nothing. Nothing everything has to be euphemistic, my possibly close-minded reader. Not everything in life is chalked up to a human hunger, lust.

For me? There’s nothing more intimate than distance. Between me and this hypothetical person, stands a field. And what is in that field? Well, it’s whatever I want it to be. Maybe it’s empty and sun bleached, maybe it’s lovely and green with a small pond and that long grass that snakes seem to love to hide in. Maybe it’s full of flowers— yellow ones. Because I know that they’re her favourite colour. What stands between this person is something only myself and they know. It’s between us— between two souls whom shall not utter a single word to eachother, for one reason or another. However, actions always weighed more than words. A glance to me may feel more intimate than a kiss— a kiss can only portray one or two things. But a glance? A glance is a glance into the soul of the other person. A glance can mean a million things? Is it the look of love? Lust? (Seeing how my generation seems to care about not much else)— or maybe it’s one or anger? Unspoken words that stay unspoken like a sin? Maybe you’ll look at me and I’ll have to wonder why it is you looked at me that way. What it is about me that caused the twitch of your left eye. I doubt I’ll ever know. But it’s intimate. I’d be exploring and guessing the inner workings of a brain that is not mine— my calloused fingers (probably calloused from doing this a million times over, mind you) shall run their course along the curves and crevices of one’s brain, perhaps one’s soul, should I want to look that deep. Maybe I’ll run my index and middle fingers along the valve of your heart. My curiosities metaphysical body will touch your unknown soul— isn’t that intimacy? For those who chalk intimacy up to physicalities, think of it metaphorically. There is an intimacy in everything. So much so that the word holds so little weight. But because it’s so humane— so every-day— that’s why it’s so important. That’s why it’s important to appreciate it. Breathing air is normal, but losing oxygen will kill you. Appreciate things. Appreciate the intimacy of life.

“The writer's job is to get the main character up a tree, and then once they are up there, throw rocks at them.” — Vladimir Nabokov

Five business days

"Coffee wakes you up instantly. Tea takes, like, five business days to kick in."

"Tea is calming. Coffee makes you jittery and aggressive."

"Maybe I like being jittery and aggressive."

"…That explains so much."

Ways I Show a Character is Deeply Lonely (Even if They’re Surrounded by People)

Loneliness isn’t always a dramatic soliloquy in the rain. It’s quieter than that. Sadder. Here’s how I like to show a character is lonely without ever using the word “lonely”

They make plans just to cancel them. The thought of being alone is scarier than the energy it’ll take to bail last-minute.

They scroll through their contacts looking for someone to talk to, but never text anyone. Because no one feels “safe” enough. Or worth the effort. Or like they’d get it.

They talk too much when someone gives them attention. Oversharing not because they trust you, but because it might be their only conversation all day.

They linger too long in shared spaces. Grocery stores, coffee shops, post offices. Anywhere that buzzes with humanity. Even if they don’t interact with a soul.

They create little rituals just to feel seen. Same café, same order, hoping the barista notices. Same bus seat. Same podcast, pretending someone’s talking tothem.

They fill their life with noise. Music, TV, background YouTube videos of people talking—anything to mute the silence they’re drowning in.

<3

Hello wandering traveler. Come rest your weary bones a while.

just because i’m not posting about it does not mean i am not thinking about it. absence of evidence is not evidence of absence

In my humble opinion

My characters to me

3 April, 1928 The Letters of Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf (1924-1941)

sorry my fault

for some reason ive had to viciously fight the overwhelming urge to add “dawg” to my every day vocabulary for like, the entire past month. No one i know says it. where did it come from? why is it here?? how do i get it to stop??? no but seriously i think ive heard it like, twice my entire life how did it get into my brain and why wont it leave.