MBTI high school

Chapter 47:

Chapter 47: The Return of the Tissue Warrior

By INFP, 5 years old, survivor of the cosmic cold

---

I’m back.

After 7 days, 21 naps, 84 cartoons, and about an ocean of tissues, I have returneeeeed to kindergarten!
Dramatic music plays in my head.

I was ready.

Ready to reclaim my favorite spot by the window, where the sun says hello like in a poem.

Ready to tell anyone who’d listen about my magical dreams (okay, usually no one, but still).

And most importantly, ready to battle ESTP for the last kitten-shaped eraser.

But...

But...

EVERYTHING CHANGED.

First, I walk into class and... WHO IS THIS OTHER ISFP??!

A new student. With perfect pigtails and the pouty face of a sad cartoon heroine.
When I smiled and said, “Hi, I’m INFP, we’re gonna be best friends, right?”, she looked at me like I was an old sock forgotten in a gym bag.

I tried to impress her with my magic stone (it’s a rock with glitter, but it’s magic in my heart), but she said:

— ISFP: I don’t like rocks.
•
•
•

My heart melted like an ice pop in the desert.
Then, my favorite place.

You know, the one by the window, with the curtain that floats gently like a princess dress?

Taken. By ESFP.

And she wasn’t moving. She was dancing. ON MY SPOT. With a butterfly puppet on each hand.

— ESFP: I’m the fairy of light and I claimed this spot in the name of unicorns!

— Me: But… but that’s where I dreamed while looking at the sky…

— ESFP: Well now it’s where I rehearse my butterfly superstar solo.

I wanted to argue. But she spun around and yelled:

— ESFP: RAINBOW TRANSFORMATION!

And I was blinded by glitter. And the worst part?

ESTP. FORGOT. ME.

He spent the whole morning giving rocks (normal ones!) to ISFJ and saying:

— ESTP: This rock is your courage. This rock is your beauty.

And there I was. With MY MAGIC ROCK. The real deal.

He didn’t even tease me. Not ONE joke. Not ONE silly nickname. Not even a “hey you’ve got a booger hanging!”

I fell into a level 5 existential crisis.
(That means I silently chewed on my sweater collar for 12 minutes.)

— ENFP: Aww, why you look all sad like a soggy cookie?

— Me: The world is not the same anymore, ENFP. The sun throne is taken. My rival is distracted. My heart is pudding.

He shrugged.

— ENFP: Come on, let’s start a secret club for the disappointed in life.

Then he forgot about the club 3 seconds later and ran off to talk to ISTJ who ignored him.

But you know what? I might be the forgotten poet, the dreamer with no window, the lone sock in mismatched pairs...

But I’ll be back.

And so will my magic rock.

Tomorrow, I’ll write a sad, beautiful poem and read it out loud under the table.

If they don’t listen… well…
I’ll build a kingdom under the classroom coats.

And in my kingdom, everyone respects shiny stones.