My Pitiful Life As An INTJ

Sentiment

Ah the burden of emotion.

Generally not a matter I delve into frequently, being an INTJ.

I have noted that despite the title insinuating that this collection of thoughts is essentially a canopy over my being as an INTJ, I did not consistently mention or apply such motives.

I suppose that I shall now.

Being an INTJ individuals frequently perceive us as heartless, calculating masterminds, plotting to control the world with our "intelligence."

It's amusing.

But I must in fact state that the heartlessness and calculating portion would be factual in the consideration that as an INTJ, we supposedly replace emotion with logic. Since the exertion of emotion is a bundle of an irrational out pour of feelings which disrupt thought.

Yet the heartlessness is absolutely false just as it is correct to some extent.

INTJs have the most emotion in comparison. However, it is sealed. When released, our emotion happens to be absurdly controlling.

Which is why depression has been preposterously arduous. I happen to be cynical, but at school others would note that I am stone faced. 

Sadly, being overly analytical, that face appears to be permanently plastered upon the blank spaces of my head. Surges of thoughts happen to include the amalgamation of harrowing ones. 

I happen to detest the discussion of emotion. As I perpetually bottle it, I am not superb at consoling others when they are in times of weariness and sorrow.  I would provide a rational approach to solve their issue, rather than hug them. Of course, with certain individuals I would attempt to be that caring specimen to a greater extent.

Furthermore, I would like to briefly note something which has left a gargantuan impression upon my mind.

Do not assume that you know the life of another individual.

I do not mean to discredit others, however, a considerable amount of those in my generation feel as though depression is a splendid fad.

If you happen to have this perception, I would like to note that you have not felt pain.

A pain so very severe and vandalizing that it causes your body to lurch and simply lose control. 

I attempt to be optimistic, yet my pessimistic views happen to generally overpower those of grandeur and pleasure. I'm bitter because as a race, humans are absurdly moronic and destructive. I am cynical because I analyze others, and can note their genuine motives.

It all contributes to this.

Certainly, I would adore being a cheerful specimen of light and jovial rainbows, but alas, I cannot. In such a melancholy and pitiful truth, I am practically never feeling jovial. Aside from being around very specific individuals, namely my books, and actually homo-sapiens, I feel emptiness yet I feel absolutely full of dejection. 

However, those that believe that they know me to the extent where they attempt to say who I am, I despise you.

Very few individuals know me.

Who I appear to be in public is a highly modified version of my factual perceptions.

Nonetheless, this was a rather idiotic chapter that I will most likely remove at a separate point in time.

Farewell then and have a magnificent day.