The ENTP

If you’ve ever gotten a tattoo, you know that it’s a different kind of pain. It’s hard to describe to someone who wants to know what it’s like. The pain is more like a mug that keeps bitting you, but you can’t get it to go away. It’s like someone is rapidly scratching at a piece of your skin over and over and over.  That’s what depression is for me today.

Overall, I’ve been happy for several days. But today, I have felt this poking, prodding feeling of sadness.

Which manifestation of depression is it? Self loathing? There’s the kind that makes you question what everyone’s thinking. And the kind that makes you wonder if you’ll be alone forever.

I always classified myself as an ENFP until I realized that I don’t react emotionally to things at first. I think. I always think. Then think some more. Then overthink. The feelings I have from those thoughts burrow their way to the surface, but only because they’re bursting at the seams.

It’s been a hard day. But I just have to survive.

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