This story, like most INFJ stories starts with a good book and a deserted bench. A few people are passing by minding their own business. The lighting in this area is perfect for reading and the open space gives a sense of freedom. All is right with the world. The book at my side is carefully opened to reveal words I have never read before. I start to settle in.
Wait. What is that?
My eyes pause from scanning the book.
I feel something. I sense a disturbance in the force.
I see shoes cross the floor and head to the bench directly across from me.
It’s him. I knew it.
Suddenly breathing becomes slightly more difficult and I feel my stomach tie in dozens of tiny knots. Come on just breath. It’s just another human being. You’ve seen several of them today.
They’re all the same. Just another human being…just another human…just another… Time moves quickly and slowly all at once.
Where am I?
Oh, yeah my book.
I was reading…my book.
All the voices of previous advice crowd my head.
“Talk to him!” they scream. “Just say something! Get his attention!”
I can’t. I just can’t. I can’t let him read my face. I can’t let him turn me down. I can’t relive that free fall again. I can’t let him think I noticed him. He can’t know. It’s too much.
I feel my face get tingly and pinkish. The clock is mocking me. I have now lost all sense of time. I need some air.
I get up.
My heart is still racing. I am now out of sight. Maybe he didn’t even notice. I doubt he even looked. It’s a routine, you know. He does this every day. I don’t think he noticed me.
Why did I even wear this shirt? Pink isn’t really my color. I don’t think he even looked up. Well, not that I would know considering I didn’t have the nerve to look up from Jane Austen’s poetic descriptions of love and society.
I look up at the ceiling and sigh. I guess that means I failed again. Maybe next time. Yeah, next time.
Loads of Love,