INFJs have an innate and undeniable darkness.
INFJs are natural idealists, but there’s a bottomless darkness to them that’s always circling them like a shark. In the wake of heartbreak and feeling beaten down and broken, something about letting the INFJ’s darkness take over just feels so damn gratifying and peaceful, a gentle succumbing. Finally, finally, this is my true self, the INFJ might think, and where this gets dangerous is that they might start to really believe it, that all there is to life is desperation and need and disappointment and deadness. What’s worse, they might start to romanticize it, connecting deeply and painfully with the kind of tormented music, art, and books that only bury them further into the hole they’re in.