Melkor
*Silent antagonist*
I am new.
Or at least, you do not know me.
So should I not be greeted as a stranger?
The fact remains:
Melkor doesn't exist.
He never did, and save for by an extreme and unlikely shift of personality he never will.
I am not bold, brave, righteous or cunning.
I am not excessive,I am anything but violent, in fact, I am entirely impassive, and I most certainley am not easily angered.
I have frequently been told that nothing affects me, and that I overthink meaningless things.
I do not posses a sharp and meaningful wit, I have nothing to brag about,I am not well loved, and If my utter lack of ability to form relationships is anything to judge by I am utterly asexual.
Furthermore I don't drink, rarely speak, and have no immediate plans for world domination.
Melkor isn't real.
He's a persona, a false and fickle cradle born of a broken mind, that sought solace behind a symbol so brilliant that none would question it.
Just the flame of a candle, the tail feathers of an illustrious vermin, a mere bright extra that detracts from the lowliness of the real thing.
Pleased to meet you.
My name is unimportant, though you may call me Melkor, even if I am nothing like him.
I enjoy drawn out lonesomes walks, talking to things which cannot reply, composing and writing novels, and losing sleep over the utter nonsense that is humanity and his peers.
When I was young I had a rather large window in my room.
It looked out onto our back garden and the massive tree that lingered there, easily towering over our house.
One of my most frequent habits was to sit there on the chest that contained my things (I was a lot smaller then, and thus sitting in the space that was only a three foot or so across was easy) and stare...
Mostly it was spiders.
They loved that window, because there was a ledge on the other side, and seeing as the window was a single pane, no human hands could ever disturb that ledge, and the angle meant shelter from the rain, and with the walls to both sides preventing the wind intefering, it was like a perfect little observation deck.
I used to sit for hours just watching a single spider make a web.
I was always jealous of the fact that such a simple creature could make something more beautiful and complex than I ever could without even trying.
Yet it was perfect, the sort of thing I long for.
Wordless understanding.
Simply by observing, and being patient and thoughtful, I could understand the method, and afterwards, the reasoning and conclusion.
The web was made to a set pattern, by a predetermined method, for a purpose we both understood, which was easily observed with patience.
I always shared the satisfaction when the spider at last caught her meal.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, if the window was left open, insects would get in, and normally, incapable of getting past the curtains, they would linger there for days, usually dying of old age or starvation and remaining there for a short while.
I still to this day don't know exactly why, but the bodies, small and fragile as they were, were always gone soon after.
I suppose they may have decomposed, but more likely my mother cleaned them away.
Regardless, when I was a child, I always assumed that decaying bodies simply dissvoled, particle by particle, (I owned a small leaflet on simple phsyics that described particles, i think I acquired it soon after my seventh birthday , you know those fileofax things that one collected and added to a folder to make a collection of facts and such?) taken away in a fine mist until they floated to heaven.
It made sense that because they were smaller, they'd get to heaven faster.
I always looked forward to dying this way... a mass of unconfined being floating and moving anyway I wished...
Heh, silly really.
Hm...
My greatest fear, which is highly irrational I accept, and which you will likely laugh at this for some time after I say it..
Is the Ghost train. Any ghost train. Even the idea itself.
I am absolutely terrifed of those things.
Not just of the insecurity of them, but because of the social context involved with the fear.
In that, when propmted by others to board such a thing, I must also acknowledge to them my fear, which, beign embarassing and demeaning adds to the fear.
Curiously I spend long peroids of time in the dark for no reason, and loud noises and flashing images rarely faze me.
Together however, they seem to have a nasty effect on me, one that has existed ever since I was repeatedly forced onto the things as a young child.
There, laugh all you like, I said it.
I was just reading this, I find it amazing how true it rings with me.
I am often accused of both over-complicating (as well as explaining things much to quickly), and I seem to communicate incredibly well through writing, and terribly in direct speech.
Again... comical observations seem to be my main means of communicating.
I often have nothing proper to say, and thus it seems to be my only method of 'keeping in touch' with those around me.
As for the esteem, I don't suspect anyone holds me in esteem, thus that point is neglibile.
However, I still consider my 'type' questionable.
I've been accused of extroversion, and of simply being a 'broken' extrovert.
Furthemore, when I'm in good company, or in a place I know well, with people I trust around me, I seem to display extroverted traits, such as beginning conversations and being able to talk for long peroids of time despite having little to say.
Also, I've been accused of being an INTJ by a few.
I doubt this very much, I am not so rigid, and even less dedicated to tasks and ideals.
Perhaps I can be a little judgemental at times though, seeing right and wrong, and the laws that declare them, as simple obsoletes.
A matter of one or the other and no inbetween.
I hope we can get to know each other from here.
I have inserted my personality profile below, though I'm sure at least some of it is doubtful.
I've also got a profile picture so I may be revealed to the cruel world.
As you see I'm neither as pretty or as well formed as my avatars tend to suggest.
(Don't expect this to stay there...err...and my hair is red now...)
There.
I'm bare.
Ask what you need to know and you shall be told.
If anyone is curious, though it is doubtful, I would appreciate a pm.
I want to be real, I need to be real.
It's so much easier with an audience of one.
I am sick of being a portrait of a man.
It may surprise you, but I am human.
Much too human.
Or at least, you do not know me.
So should I not be greeted as a stranger?
The fact remains:
Melkor doesn't exist.
He never did, and save for by an extreme and unlikely shift of personality he never will.
I am not bold, brave, righteous or cunning.
I am not excessive,I am anything but violent, in fact, I am entirely impassive, and I most certainley am not easily angered.
I have frequently been told that nothing affects me, and that I overthink meaningless things.
I do not posses a sharp and meaningful wit, I have nothing to brag about,I am not well loved, and If my utter lack of ability to form relationships is anything to judge by I am utterly asexual.
Furthermore I don't drink, rarely speak, and have no immediate plans for world domination.
Melkor isn't real.
He's a persona, a false and fickle cradle born of a broken mind, that sought solace behind a symbol so brilliant that none would question it.
Just the flame of a candle, the tail feathers of an illustrious vermin, a mere bright extra that detracts from the lowliness of the real thing.
Pleased to meet you.
My name is unimportant, though you may call me Melkor, even if I am nothing like him.
I enjoy drawn out lonesomes walks, talking to things which cannot reply, composing and writing novels, and losing sleep over the utter nonsense that is humanity and his peers.
When I was young I had a rather large window in my room.
It looked out onto our back garden and the massive tree that lingered there, easily towering over our house.
One of my most frequent habits was to sit there on the chest that contained my things (I was a lot smaller then, and thus sitting in the space that was only a three foot or so across was easy) and stare...
Mostly it was spiders.
They loved that window, because there was a ledge on the other side, and seeing as the window was a single pane, no human hands could ever disturb that ledge, and the angle meant shelter from the rain, and with the walls to both sides preventing the wind intefering, it was like a perfect little observation deck.
I used to sit for hours just watching a single spider make a web.
I was always jealous of the fact that such a simple creature could make something more beautiful and complex than I ever could without even trying.
Yet it was perfect, the sort of thing I long for.
Wordless understanding.
Simply by observing, and being patient and thoughtful, I could understand the method, and afterwards, the reasoning and conclusion.
The web was made to a set pattern, by a predetermined method, for a purpose we both understood, which was easily observed with patience.
I always shared the satisfaction when the spider at last caught her meal.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, if the window was left open, insects would get in, and normally, incapable of getting past the curtains, they would linger there for days, usually dying of old age or starvation and remaining there for a short while.
I still to this day don't know exactly why, but the bodies, small and fragile as they were, were always gone soon after.
I suppose they may have decomposed, but more likely my mother cleaned them away.
Regardless, when I was a child, I always assumed that decaying bodies simply dissvoled, particle by particle, (I owned a small leaflet on simple phsyics that described particles, i think I acquired it soon after my seventh birthday , you know those fileofax things that one collected and added to a folder to make a collection of facts and such?) taken away in a fine mist until they floated to heaven.
It made sense that because they were smaller, they'd get to heaven faster.
I always looked forward to dying this way... a mass of unconfined being floating and moving anyway I wished...
Heh, silly really.
Hm...
My greatest fear, which is highly irrational I accept, and which you will likely laugh at this for some time after I say it..
Is the Ghost train. Any ghost train. Even the idea itself.
I am absolutely terrifed of those things.
Not just of the insecurity of them, but because of the social context involved with the fear.
In that, when propmted by others to board such a thing, I must also acknowledge to them my fear, which, beign embarassing and demeaning adds to the fear.
Curiously I spend long peroids of time in the dark for no reason, and loud noises and flashing images rarely faze me.
Together however, they seem to have a nasty effect on me, one that has existed ever since I was repeatedly forced onto the things as a young child.
There, laugh all you like, I said it.
I was just reading this, I find it amazing how true it rings with me.
INTPs organize their understanding of any topic by articulating principles, and they are especially drawn to theoretical constructs. Having articulated these principles for themselves, they can demonstrate remarkable skill in explaining complex ideas to others in simple terms, especially in writing. On the other hand, their ability to grasp complexity may also lead them to provide overly detailed explanations of "simple" ideas, and listeners may judge that the INTP makes things more difficult than they are. To the INTP, however, this is incomprehensible: They are merely presenting all the information.
I am often accused of both over-complicating (as well as explaining things much to quickly), and I seem to communicate incredibly well through writing, and terribly in direct speech.
They may defuse tension through comical observations and references. They can be charming, even in their quiet reserve, and are sometimes surprised by the high esteem in which their friends and colleagues hold them.
Again... comical observations seem to be my main means of communicating.
I often have nothing proper to say, and thus it seems to be my only method of 'keeping in touch' with those around me.
As for the esteem, I don't suspect anyone holds me in esteem, thus that point is neglibile.
However, I still consider my 'type' questionable.
I've been accused of extroversion, and of simply being a 'broken' extrovert.
Furthemore, when I'm in good company, or in a place I know well, with people I trust around me, I seem to display extroverted traits, such as beginning conversations and being able to talk for long peroids of time despite having little to say.
Also, I've been accused of being an INTJ by a few.
I doubt this very much, I am not so rigid, and even less dedicated to tasks and ideals.
Perhaps I can be a little judgemental at times though, seeing right and wrong, and the laws that declare them, as simple obsoletes.
A matter of one or the other and no inbetween.
I hope we can get to know each other from here.
I have inserted my personality profile below, though I'm sure at least some of it is doubtful.
I've also got a profile picture so I may be revealed to the cruel world.
As you see I'm neither as pretty or as well formed as my avatars tend to suggest.
(Don't expect this to stay there...err...and my hair is red now...)
There.
I'm bare.
Ask what you need to know and you shall be told.
If anyone is curious, though it is doubtful, I would appreciate a pm.
I want to be real, I need to be real.
It's so much easier with an audience of one.
I am sick of being a portrait of a man.
It may surprise you, but I am human.
Much too human.