Reading Time: <4 mins.
I'm basically just going to let loose my inner drama king and declare that I am definitely here to make friends. Fair warning must be given that I am overall a very terrible person and not unlike a certain feline overlord species inhabiting certain unfortunate households.
I am also a very self-indulgent writer.
If any of the aforementioned information somehow does not make you roll your eyeballs into oblivion or you yourself are a strange person willing to witness the native Selfish in its natural habitat that is the written form, feel free to send me a raven. We may get along just yet.
(If, however, you still haven't clicked away from all this drivel and wish to be convinced I shall attempt to make a decent introduction.)
Lo! I am an unnaturally (or perhaps not ) self-absorbed INFP, a fact that only becomes unsurprising once people see the 4w3. Truthfully, the only reason why I accept this perception is because it at least gives me an excuse to act like I'm some heady, disgustingly flamboyant mixture of Amadeus (1984) and Marie Antoinette (2006).
At this point, some of you may be muttering to yourselves that there's no way this young fool is one of those sweet, gentle INFPs. And in another time, perhaps I would have agreed with you. But honestly, though he is an ISFP, another user named Pop Crimes described it best:
It's true, all of it. Down to the vintage suits and the obscene amount of expensive clothing and other creative effects (or what's left of it, rather--for me, it's books). We're lovely, terrible people I assure you.I sort of feel that I stray between 4w5 and 4w3, and in all honesty I think that's the case. But if I have to be certain, I'd say I'm a 3 for no other (shallower) reason than the fact that 4w3 is described as "The Aristocrat". God, I've always had dreams of being an aristocrat. Seriously. Since way back when, I've been in love with the idea of literally, being an aristocrat. Of being born into a wealthy family in 18th century England, and do nothing but sit on my arse all day reading poetry and composing music. Interspersed with having tea parties in the nude, drinking till' I'm blitzed and fucking around in London brothels. All this while being immaculately dapper.
When I am in a healthy frame of mind, I am organized, disciplined, positive and productive. But when I'm in an unhealthy frame of mind I'm narcissistic by way of sorrow. Completely self-indulgent. Smoking expensive cigarettes, eating rich foods, sleeping long hours, wasting money. Wasting away; precious, effete; would have been sent to the gullotine by citizens during the French revolution.
(...) Yet, I don't want to be that way because people will look down on me. People will look down on me, and no one will love me. Then my emptiness will be made worse. I will chip my nails and dirty my hands with work just so you will love me.
I hate myself for who I am, but I love myself too because no one can be dissolute like me, and no one can have my perspectives. I'm so confused.
Confused and getting ahead of myself.
P.s. At the age of 13 I started developing a taste for vintage suits. And if I had the money, Lord knows what kind of awful expensive clothing I'll buy. And a taste for expensive guitars and guitar effect pedals.
Anyway, since this is already far too long for a simple introduction (though I did enjoy writing it; typical), I feel it is best to end things here. If any of you remained to finish it, you have my sincere sincere appreciation.
In the event that you're actually interested in corresponding with me, you're very much welcome to pop in below and write your lovely hellos. One benefit of being whatever category of person I am is that there is very little I judge others for. Therefore, as this thread's resident patrician, I hereby grant you the freedom to be whomever and however you please (though do turn it down a little for our moderators; even noblemen have their rulers, after all).
My thanks for your attention darlings, but I should probably shove off. I have another thread to catch!