#the right words haven't been invented yet but this is my best attempt

[shallowseabed]

life update for a lost friend

Hey,

It's been more than a month since we last spoke. You never apologized for snapping, didn't even bother opening my message. Classic you, isn't it? Running away when things get messy. You feel "cornered" and just break whatever's in front of you and then you disappear. At least last time you had tried to apologize, this time I'm just left with your silence.

I haven't thought about you as much as I would have a year ago. It's strange not having you around, but I guess I'm getting used to it faster than I thought I would. I've been seeing your instagram stories, and I know you probably know. I wonder how you're doing, but I'm not gonna ask. I've had enough of all that, I've given up. It's funny, really. Never really thought you'd wear me down, but you somehow did. You never cease to amaze me.

I haven't really come up with an explanation as to why you said the things you said, or why you acted the way you acted. I thought you'd try swiping things under the rug, or that you would at least have an attempt at a self-centered apology. But nope. All I got was radio silence instead. And it's okay, you know? I'm not mad, I'm really not. Maybe silence was all we needed.

Things in my life have been weird. I don't feel much like myself, maybe I'm on a self-discovery journey like my therapist said. I'm not sure, but your absence isn't helping. I could use your company for a bit, and your ear for a bit of ranting.

I thought when you looked at me you saw me and nothing else, but now I've realized you were also seeing the labels hanging from my arms. You know, the ones people put there for some reason. I thought you were so exceptionally different, thought your eyesight went further than the rest of the world's. Boy, was I wrong. I now know that you always saw me just like the rest, and maybe that was the hardest pill to swallow. I suspect that, deep down, I already knew it. But it wasn't so blatantly obvious, so I was able to just ignore it.

Perhaps that's why I'm not mad at you. Because, very deep down, I know I needed this reality check. You're not the person I made you out to be, you're not even the person YOU led me to believe you were. You are so much different, almost unrecognizable. The only thing I don't get is the reason behind all this play pretend. Why would you waste your time trying to make me believe you were someone you're not? Doesn't it get tiring? I bet it gets exhausting. Is that what your sudden snapping was about? Were you tired of this false reality?

About me, I think I'm tougher than before. I've come to realize it's almost impossible for me to love people, and it's even harder to let myself be loved by anyone. I'm not scared of love, I just… don't know it. I don't know how to love people, I don't know how to feel loved, I barely even know how to feel at all. It's weird, because I can understand everyone else in the blink of an eye, but I can't make sense of what's inside me. I can put a name on what others are going through, I can understand their emotions as if I were feeling them myself. I can give people the words for what they feel deep inside, and bring some comfort to their troubled minds and soulds. Yet I can't even begin to understand what's in my very own mind. I can't even label it, and words keep failing me. Best I can do is draw it out, or describe it as something you'd think is completely unrelated. It's hard to make yourself understood when the right words haven't been invented yet.

Turns out there's a name for this: autism. I never thought I could be autistic. I have always believed my brain was wired differently, but I didn't think the word for it had been invented yet. Frankly, I still don't believe it has, but I guess autism is the closest guess we've got for now. My therapist says there's no cure, that this will never go away. He says I can make it better, but that I should stop trying to stop being the way I am. I can't stop being the way I am, but I can make it better, and I guess that's as good as it gets for me. Ha, life's getting back at me.

I guess this is like my Von Willebrand Syndrome. You can't make it go away but you can try to make it better with things that were created to treat something else but that, if you're lucky, should work just right.

I think this is just bullshit, all of it. I feel like I've been left out of the world. This world doesn't have the right words, explanations, feelings, eyes nor the right ears for me. It's like I was brought straight from space, some kind of uncommunicated freak. I'm starting to make peace with it, albeit. It's not easy, but I guess I make it work, somehow.

It turns out there are some things I do that are very uncommon and hard to achieve, and I was completely unaware of it. Did you know that, apparently, accurately picking up on patterns in order to predict actions and events is kind of a big deal? And that people's minds don't react in mili seconds to tiny changes in their environments? Did you know that most people can't decipher someone's backstory with just a few personality traits and behavioral patterns? Because I surely didn't.

I've been rambling for the last 30 minutes and I forgot where I was going. I guess all I wanted to say was thank you, for setting me free.

[vasiktomis]

Tagged by the always lovely folks @scungilliwoman, @adelaidedrubman, @honeysides, and @lilwritingraven.

Tagging: @shallow-gravy, @stacispratt, @amistrio, @chyrstis, @writerofblocks, @necro-hamster, and @johnnycranes (no obligation and only if you haven't gone already!)

Rules: assign mbtis to some of your clowns

(Leave me alone, this is my first attempt at a gif)

ASSERTIVE ARCHITECT

Introduction

WHO IS AN ARCHITECT (INTJ)?An Architect (INTJ) is a person with the Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking, and Judging personality traits. These thoughtful tacticians love perfecting the details of life, applying creativity and rationality to everything they do. Their inner world is often a private, complex one.

“Thought constitutes the greatness of man. Man is a reed, the feeblest thing in nature, but he is a thinking reed.” - BLAISE PASCAL

It can be lonely at the top. As one of the rarest personality types – and one of the most capable – Architects (INTJs) know this all too well. Rational and quick-witted, Architects may struggle to find people who can keep up with their nonstop analysis of everything around them.

A Thirst for Knowledge

These personalities can be both the boldest of dreamers and the bitterest of pessimists. Architects believe that, through willpower and intelligence, they can achieve even the most challenging of goals. But they may be cynical about human nature more generally, assuming that most people are lazy, unimaginative, or simply doomed to mediocrity. Architects derive much of their self-esteem from their knowledge and mental acuity. In school, people with this personality type may have been called “bookworms” or “nerds.” But rather than taking these labels as insults, many Architects embrace them. They are confident in their ability to teach themselves about – and master – any topic that interests them, whether that’s coding or capoeira or classical music.

“You are not entitled to your opinion. You are entitled to your informed opinion. No one is entitled to be ignorant.” - HARLAN ELLISON

Architects can be single-minded, with little patience for frivolity, distractions, or idle gossip. That said, it would be a mistake to stereotype these personalities as dull or humourless. Many Architects are known for their irreverent wit, and beneath their serious exteriors, they often have a sharp, delightfully sarcastic sense of humour.

Finding a Better Way

Architects question everything. Many personality types trust the status quo, relying on conventional wisdom and other people’s expertise as they go about their lives. But ever-sceptical Architects prefer to make their own discoveries. In their quest to find better ways of doing things, they aren’t afraid to break the rules or risk disapproval – in fact, they rather enjoy it. But as anyone with this personality type would tell you, a new idea isn’t worth anything unless it actually works. Architects want to be successful, not just inventive. They bring a single-minded drive to their passion projects, applying the full force of their insight, logic, and willpower. And heaven help anyone who tries to slow them down by enforcing pointless rules or offering poorly thought-out criticism.

Architects, independent to the core, want to shake off other people’s expectations and pursue their own ideas.

This personality type comes with a strong independent streak. Architects don’t mind acting alone, perhaps because they don’t like waiting around for others to catch up with them. They also generally feel comfortable making decisions without asking for anyone else’s input. At times, this lone-wolf behaviour can come across as insensitive, as it fails to take into consideration other people’s thoughts, desires, and plans.

Social Frustrations

Architects aren’t known for being warm and fuzzy. They tend to prioritize rationality and success over politeness and pleasantries – in other words, they’d rather be right than popular. This may explain why so many fictional villains are modeled on this personality type. Because Architects value truth and depth, many common social practices – from small talk to white lies – may seem pointless or downright stupid to them. As a result, they may inadvertently come across as rude or even offensive when they’re only trying to be honest. At times, Architects may wonder if dealing with other people is even worth the frustration. But like any personality type, Architects do crave social interaction – they’d just prefer to surround themselves with people who share their values and priorities. Often, they can achieve this just by being themselves. When Architects pursue their interests, their natural confidence can draw people to them – professionally, socially, and even romantically.

The Chess Game of Life

This personality type is full of contradictions. Architects are imaginative yet decisive, ambitious yet private, and curious yet focused. From the outside, these contradictions may seem baffling, but they make perfect sense once you understand the inner workings of the Architect mind. For Architects, life is like a giant game of chess. Relying on strategy rather than chance, they contemplate the strengths and weaknesses of each move before they make it. And they never lose faith that, with enough ingenuity and insight, they can find a way to win – no matter what challenges might arise along the way.

The Assertive Type

Assertive Architects are likely to approach the things they do with a greater degree of self-assurance. These Architects feel more confident about handling the stressors that are inevitably a part of life. They are less likely to experience regret if things go wrong. So, stressors and past failures are less likely to be motivators.

However, confidence isn’t everything and may not always guarantee success. For Turbulent Architects, many of their best efforts come from concerns about real or perceived shortcomings. This may push them to work harder and be more meticulous in an attempt to do better or make things better. These personalities are more thorough – not despite the fact that they worry, but because they do worry. Turbulent Architects are likely to carry their diligent desire for improvement into any of their personal or professional endeavours.

[hoodie-2]

Hours had passed since the "math duel" and the sun had began its descent, setting the town ablaze with a warm orange glow. Krel had spent a portion of the evening exploring, or rather wandering, throughout more of the town, observing it's people. Many of the humans were out in pairs at this hour, some of the pairs had included smaller versions of themselves in whatever activities they were partaking in. He had spied a young pair of, well, human girls at the park, almost identical except in the tones of their skin and the color of their hair, and a pair of adults he assumed were their parents seated on a bench not far away, sitting at polar ends from each other on the bench conversing on their communication devices, otherwise leaving the two children on their own.

The girls themselves didn't appear perturbed or at all bothered by their parents behavior, more entertained by the images on the platform they made with the unusual writing untensils in their tiny hands. Well, all Earthly untensils were unusual in Krel's perspective; pencils, pens, markers, but ones that the two girls used were different even from those. These were maybe the length of an unused pencil but far thicker than a marker and... powdery? His head tipped as he watched one blow away part of her line, the colorful powder pushed into the air in one big gust, as she redrew the line. Her fairer toned sibling patted a hand on her clothes, a blue colored handprint left behind on the green fabric. Both girls took notice of the mark and giggled, the first girl Krel was watching pressed a hand to her own clothes and left a pink handprint similar to the other's blue. The action brought a smile to his face, it has been a while since that happened.

He eyed the girls' parents again. Would it be rude if he just started talking to the children? Their parents didn't seem to be very attentive at the moment. Doesn't that sound familiar? But he was curious about their weird, colorful writing tools. Hm, maybe if he just kept a decent distance as he spoke to them. He didn't want to come off as strange.

"Excuse me," he approached the girls, kneeling to their height at what he believed was a respectable distance. Both girls looked at him, shifting as if they were preparing to run at the first opportunity, Krel wasn't exactly surprised by the reaction seeing as a lot of the commercials on the picture box involved something called 'stranger danger' and he was, afterall, a stranger to them. But he pointed at their drawings, from a closer examination the colorful etchings turned out to be crude imitations of other Earth creatures, a lot of them with long ears and roundish tails and a few like clouds with legs. "What is that you are writing with?"

The wariness in their eyes wavered as they looked down at the drawings around them and then at the untensils in their hands.

"You mean chalk?" The yellow-haired one asked, pointing her free hand to the blue powdery stick she held.

"Chalk," Krel echoed thoughtfully. "And you, ah, draw with it?"

"Yea, dummy," her sister answered. "Haven't you used chalk before?" They gave him identical looks of confusion only someone their age could.

"No, actually, I haven't." Krel answered back quietly. "We don't have anything like 'chalk' where I am from." He looked down at their drawings again, noticing colors other than pink and blue, there was a yellow circle he figured was the sun judging by the green landscape below it and many other colorful dots he supposed were plants. His head tilted so the image wasn't completely upside down in his perspective. "You have some very pretty drawings."

"Do you want to try?" The yellow-haired girl asked, holding out her chalk stick to him.

He eyed the shrunken piece of blue in her open palm. "A- are you sure?"

"Sure!" The girl chirped, a smile spreading over her features, a matching one on her sister's as well. "We do this all the time, its fun."

Krel took the chalk from her, rolling it and turning it in his hand, blue powder stuck to his palm wherever it touched. He looked up to see the girl reach behind her sister and pull out another stick of chalk, purple this time. They went back to scribbling on the bricks around them. He watched as their creativity grew and spread, narrowly crossing over each other's work and somehow still blending together.

Looking down at the emptiness around him where their chalk hadn't yet touched. What would he draw, he wondered. Things considered artistic escaped him, even on his planet; he couldn't understand poetry, the closest he gets to crafting is inventing gadgets, even basic drawing on a telepad wasn't something he had much skill in. What could he draw? Well, shapes are pretty simple.

He started with a triangle, Earth's history was full of them according to Kubritz and her research teams. Ancient tombs and monuments to societies that have long since passed, the triangle was acknowledged as the strongest structure, those words rang true clearly. A square, the basic form of most present day structures; there wasn't anything too spectacular about it, a little more space than a triangle, sure but meh. Then a circle, a shape Krel was most familiar with, there wasn't a screen or viewing monitor in Akiridion-5 that did not have circles, and even then there were links that connected them to more circles. On Earth, circles meant unity to some and a means of 'alien' communication to others - Kubritz.

"Can't you draw?" The brown-haired girl asked as she crawled over to look at his work.

"I am not very talented." Krel admitted. "But drawing with chalk is fun."

"Try drawing your family." Her sister suggested as she joined them. "That helps me sometimes."

Krel hummed at that logic. It was sound enough, even if he was currently at odds with his family and it was an extremely delicate situation. But they are human children, it was probably best to go along with it.

He started with Aja, forcing himself to recall her human form; it wasn't perfect, especially since he was limited to one color but he knew. Next his mother, whose disguise he's only seen a handful of times so this may be a little more difficult. That was nothing to drawing his father. How does one draw face fur?

The girls giggled at the etching.

"That one looks like a monkey." The yellow-haired one pointed to his etching. His gaze roamed over the attempted drawing and felt laughter bubbling in his chest.

"It seems you are right." Oh, how was Krel going to look at his father's face without laughing now?

He looked around them, seeing that the sky was gradually getting darker, getting closer to the time that younglings would be taken back to their homes. The girls' parents were still occupied with their own priorities, poor girls.

"I suppose I should go," he sighed, giving back the chalk he was given, "you will be going home soon." Krel did not expect such saddened expressions at his words.

"Do you have to?" The brown-haired girl asked, watching him stand up.

"I'm afraid so." He dusted the blue powder on to his jeans. "But I'm sure we will see each other again."

"Really?" The yellow-haired girl asked excitedly.

"Of course," Krel chuckled. "I wander around when I have free time." He watched as they shared a look, tipping his head as they stood as well, the yellow-haired one picking up the blue chalk and holding it out to him again.

"My name's Abby," she said, bouncing a little on her heels as she shook the chalk at him.

"And I'm Gabby." Her sister added proudly. "You can have the blue one, then we can draw again next time. Right?"

A smile pulled at his lips again. It would be a shame to see their faces fall again in sadness. He took the chalk from Abby. "That sounds fun. My name is Krel, it was nice to meet you both."

They waved at him as he walked away, pocketing the chalk he was gifted. Maybe he can find out where they get it next time so he can obtain more himself. He admired the blue powder that tainted his palm, opening and closing his hand, it was somehow amusing how the color clung to his flesh. It was almost as if his real body was peering through, if only.

After a bit of wandering, the sky growing darker, and some of the street lights were blinking to life Krel found himself at a back alley behind some stores that surrounded the park, if his memory of the town map was correct. It was empty of any lifeform that was human as he stepped in, looking around at his surroundings carefully; four-legged creatures that he was told were cats saw his approach and ran off into hiding; even smaller creatures scurried away behind them, leaving Krel alone with the garbage bins of two different sizes, the walls of the buildings were clean aside from the occasional stain near the bins or moss that grew more toward the ground.

He wasn't sure what compelled him to do so but he pulled the piece of chalk from his pocket and wrote the equation from the math duel, following it with his correct work and answer. Satisfaction washed over him as he wrote his answer, the right answer, his original answer. He was still a bit stuck on his why's during the duel, he knew he did a good thing for Seamus so what did it matter anymore. Why did Seamus stare at him when it was over?

Krel's hand moved to write another equation, it was more complex but watching the letters and numbers come into being it made sense to him, it always made sense to him, similar to cataloging past events and his planning for the future. It was comforting as he continued the equation, spreading it further along the wall, blue clear against the red brick but still convoluted. Had he been less taken in with his work he probably would have felt more guilty about how much of the chalk he was using up. He didn't notice the approaching person behind him until they addressed him.

"Kubritz?"

Krel whipped around, instinctively taking up a defensive battle stance startling the newcomer. That was... Seamus? And was holding an item in each hand, they didnt seem to be weapons though so he could relax somewhat. Not completely though, he has noticed around the education prison that some human males in their age group tended to be, well, boorish and found amusement in harassing other males they perceived as weak, and Krel's human form unfortunately suited that perception. Primitive. He'll be sure to correct that.

"Uh... hey," Seamus waved one of the things he held, the action stiff. His eyes flicked beyond Krel, looking over the equations behind him. "What're you working on?" His gaze followed the equation to the start, lingering on the work shown. "Looks complicated."

"You have no idea." Krel wasn't trusting this interaction, not that there was any reason to.

"Hey- Look, you can relax, uh, whatever move that is," Seamus gestured to Krel's posture with whatever it was he held. "What is that anyway? Judo? Jujitsu?"

Krel eased his stance but kept a leery eye still on the human. "Nothing you have ever seen, I assure you." He answered in little more than a monotone.

"Ookay...?" The human coughed, taking a few meeger steps toward him with a hand extended outward. "You want a burrito? I dunno if you've eaten yet or anything but it's an idea right?" He gave a pitiful laugh as he stopped only a few feet away, the thing in his hand slumping over his fingers like it was trying to slip out of his grip.

As a being of energy, Krel had no need to consume organic materials, but he has been curious. On another hand Earth has a history in poisoning consumables for enemies, again not that it should affect him, maybe.

A sigh escaped Seamus, seeming to notice Krel's reluctance. "I just want to apologize for my behavior." He said, "You didn't deserve it. You earned the grade fair and square."

"I suppose I should say that I'm relieved you've gained some sense." Krel retorted, not completely convinced.

"Okay... I earned that." Krel saw Seamus' grip tighten around the 'burrito', his restraint was admirable. "But you didn't have to let me win, so why did you?"

Krel finally took the burrito, examining it for a moment before tearing the aluminum wrapping like he's seen other humans do and bite into it. The texture was strange, soft, soggy; the taste was savory, it was weird feeling the crunch of vegetables but overall it wasn't bad but he didn't have much in expectations, so, another point for Earth.

"Wanna sit?" Seamus gestured to the the sidewalk. Krel didn't object, taking another bite of his burrito and joining him on the cold cement just a yard or so from a flickering lamppost.

"I had nothing to gain," he answered finally, getting a startled look, "from winning the math duel. Nothing to lose either, unlike you."

The human's head ducked almost sheepishly. He must have recalled how loud his father was in bellowing their agreement. If it could have been called that.

"Again, I'm sorry," he declared. "My dad just has high expectations. Very high."

"Understandable."

"Is it really?"

Krel frowned at him. "Just because my parents are not present does not mean I don't have my own problems with them."

Seamus' face turned even more guilt ridden. "R-right, sorry," he stammered, a red hue spreading over his features. He was quiet for a moment, taking large distracting bites of his own burrito. The silence allowed Krel a moment to gather his thoughts about the present situation, and possibly plan for what could happen next. Maybe he could somehow make Seamus an ally, like Aja had with the majority of their peers, to keep his disguise here. It certainly would make things easier than researching every tidbit about this mudball to blend in while Morando outsources the search for Gaylen's core. The question was how to do so.

"You," Seamus spoke up again, breaking the silence between them, "you came from a warring country, right, like Aja Tarron and her family?"

The words brought a bitter curl to his lips. Her family, may as well be, ironic, consider she used to run away from her family at every opportunity.

"Yes," Krel answered softly. "Maybe even the same country, if luck would have it." Some luck that would be.

"What happened? I-if you don't mind me asking."

The expression on Seamus' face was different from before; softer, solemn, perhaps even sympathetic. It's been a clear background to his class that Krel escaped from a war torn country with no family besides Morando who was discharged due to injury during the fight. Could this be the opportunity he needed to make Seamus his ally? To make a 'friend'? In one quote Krel had heard, he now understood. When opportunity knocks, it would be wise to open the door.

"I-it all happened so fast," Krel began, quickly coming up with details to twist the story from the traumatic reality. "It happened on the coronation day for the royal heirs; my parents both had high political and military positions so my sister and I were allowed good seats to see the crowning," he kept his voice low, allowing some of the emotion he kept at bay to fill his words, "everyone was excited, we all had high hopes. The princess hadn't made her appearance yet when the attack happened." Krel swallowed thickly as the real memory came to mind. The running, his parents ordering him and Zadra to find Aja, falling behind, and being left behind. "It was chaos; people were running everywhere, trying to find each other and to find shelter, soldiers and their weapons, the cannon fire..." his eyes were leaking again, it was too much already with so little spoken. What was wrong with him? "I- I was too slow, my... my parents- my sister, gah, what is wrong with me?" He took the fabric of his shirt, quickly trying to wipe away the streaming liquid, his chest felt heavy, his core ached. Krel hadn't felt like this since he first found Aja and their parents on Earth. His head hurt.

A hand touched his shoulder making him freeze up. "It's okay." Seamus' voice was calm, relaxing even. "You've been through a lot, huh?"

Krel sniffed, trying to regain some composure before answering. "You have no idea."