MBTI high school

Chapter 41:

Chapter 41: The Solitude of the Heart

Four years earlier.

INFJ was 13 and in middle school when he realized the world wasn’t as gentle as he had hoped. Raised in an unloving foster family, he was often dominated by older kids. Still, it didn’t bother him much. He had a home, a family, and a purpose: to help others.

He helped Greg with his math homework, comforted Sarah in her moments of doubt, gave Mr. Leroy relationship advice, and supported Denise through her physical disability.

But every act of kindness came back to slap him in the face. He was called a hypocrite, rejected, and mocked. His sincere desire to help seemed to offend people. Gradually, he closed off, choosing to help from the shadows—cold, distant. And yet, he kept reaching out in secret, still believing he could make a difference.

Then reality struck him hard. Sarah, once so fragile, had become a cruel bully.

Greg, whom he had supported, was now forcing others to do his homework.

Denise, whom he had encouraged, had pushed Natacha, the swim team captain, out of jealousy.

His heart shattered. Had he guided them the wrong way? Had he played a part in their transformation?

On a Friday the 13th, he made a radical decision: he would never help anyone again.

But life wasn’t done testing him.

One evening, on his way home, he saw a freshman surrounded by older kids.

Frozen at first, he tried the reasonable option: calling the authorities.

They were slow to respond, thinking it was a prank. The punches started. INFJ felt a cold shiver. He tried to intervene, reason with the attackers, beg them to stop. They laughed at him, grabbed him. They wanted him to feel what their victim was feeling.

And then, something snapped in his mind.

Why must people be so cruel? Why so much violence, hate, injustice?

What followed was a blur. Screams. Sirens. The hospital. The bullies expelled. He was put on leave. His foster mother, Rose—worried but clumsy with her emotions—decided with her husband to send him to another town, another family. Far from everything. Far from himself.

Silence became his refuge.

A few weeks after arriving, he heard rumors about a strange group in his new school: students dressed like hippies, handing out flyers and yelling constantly:

"PEACE AND LOVE!"

Out of pure curiosity, he approached. Bad idea.

A boy with green hair bounced toward him, a plastic flower in his hair and a grin wider than his face.

— ENFP: “Hey you! Yes, you with the tortured philosopher look! Wanna join the peaceful revolution of love and sharing?!”

— INFJ (blinking): “Uh... what?”

A blonde girl with a reassuring aura came over, gently tapping the first weirdo on the head.

— ENFJ: “Ignore ENFP, he scares the newbies. I’m ENFJ. You look like the type who wants to help others but is afraid of messing up. Am I wrong?”

Another quieter girl nodded.

— INFP: “Welcome to the club, comrade. INFP, nice to meet you. I write poems about the absurdity of life if you’re into that kind of thing.”

INFJ stood speechless.

Was this a cult? A prank? he wondered.

And yet, something about their energy, their sincerity, moved him. For the first time, he didn’t feel judged. Maybe... maybe he had found the people who could teach him to help differently—with gentleness, with love.

A smile, timid but genuine, formed on his lips. Maybe hope wasn’t dead after all.

— INFJ (smiling): “I’d be glad to help.”