MBTI high school

Chapter 70

Chapter 70: I Never Forget Joy

The alarm rang at 7:00 AM sharp, a polite but stubborn beep-beep, like a reminder from the universe that it was time to save the world. INFJ opened his eyes, still trapped in half-sleep, then cracked a smile.
Today, exams were over. Two weeks of freedom before the results: a miracle.

He sat up in bed and grabbed his notebook from the nightstand, beige cover, worn corners, a pen tucked into the binding. On the first page, these words were carefully written:

The INFJ Method : "I Never..."

> For a kinder world (or at least, one slightly less in panic).

INFJ sighed with conviction and read the rule of the day:

I Never start the day without a smile. ✓

He greeted Mira, the house's old cat.

I Never ignore a living creature (even mosquitoes). ✓

INFJ closed his eyes and hummed a melody.

I Never raise my voice. ✓

I Never Forget to Jump in and help. (To do later)

He closed the notebook, took a deep breath, and felt ready. INFJ was going to make the world a better place... or at least the neighborhood.

Heading downstairs, INFJ was greeted by a blend of shouting, laughter, and music. In the kitchen, Sacha, a teenager with dreadlocked afro hair, was leaning over the table typing furiously on his keyboard. Sheets of paper covered in crossed-out sentences littered the floor like the feathers of a moulting literary bird.

-Not 'the sun rips through the dawn, he muttered. Too poetic. Needs something punchier. Like: 'He got up because his alarm was screaming like a starving kid.'

He frowned, satisfied.

Next to him, Christopher, a redhead with big brown eyes, wearing pajamas and frog-shaped slippers, was making toast. But instead of butter, he was spreading... jam on both sides.

-To balance the energies, he explained with utter seriousness. Otherwise, the toast feels neglected on one side.

INFJ walked in, all smiles.

-Good morning, lights of my life!

Sacha rolled his eyes.

-If you're still in your 'fill people with love' phase, start with the coffee pot. It's empty.

Christopher held up a dramatic finger:

-Leave him be, Sacha. He's on a spiritual quest. Maybe today he'll bless the saucepans.

-One should never mock a calling, INFJ replied, sitting down calmly.

Sacha chuckled.

-Yeah, well, as long as your calling stays away from my keyboard, do whatever you want.

INFJ picked up his notebook and wrote:

> "Morning observation: Irony often hides tenderness. Sacha has a soft heart after all."

Sacha sighed:

-I can hear you, you know.

At 9:00 AM sharp, INFJ stepped out into the street, notebook clutched to his chest. His mission for the day: apply the method to all the neighbors.

Step one: Mrs. Boulange, the ground-floor neighbor. A woman with a hair bun as rigid as her opinions.

-Good morning, Mrs. Boulange! I'm here to help you water your plants!

-My plants are plastic, young man.

-Precisely! One must never neglect the love put into the gesture!

Without waiting, INFJ grabbed the garden hose. Result: a torrent on the balcony, a soaked curtain, and a scream from the ground floor:

-MY CATS ARE DRENCHED!

INFJ, completely sheepish, replied:

-One must never stop at the first mistake...

Then he fled. Quickly. Very quickly.
Step two: the mailman. A man with a stooped back, carrying a bag as heavy as his weariness. INFJ ran up to him.

-Good morning! One must never let someone carry their burden alone!

-Huh? No, wait, I-

Too late. INFJ snatched the bag from him, tripped, and letters flew into the street like confetti of misfortune. The mailman stared at him, pale.

-Are you insane?!

INFJ, beaming:

-No. Caring. It's different.

Around noon, he returned home, wet, unkempt, and covered in envelopes stuck to his shirt.
In the living room, his father Léo was reading a self-improvement magazine, while his other father Max was fixing a light switch.
Léo looked up fondly.

-Ah, son! Still looking for meaning, are we?

Max, without looking up:

-Or looking for trouble.

INFJ attempted a heroic smile.

-I simply wanted to apply the INFJ method to the community.

Sacha walked in behind him, notebook in hand.

-I'm taking notes, just in case I decide to write The Uncontrollable Altruist. That'd make a good title, right?

Christopher, holding yet another double-sided toast, added:

-I'll do the cover. It'll be you, shirtless, holding a burning watering can.

INFJ looked at them, equal parts exasperated and affectionate.

-You can laugh, but one day you'll see that kindness is contagious.

-Yeah, Christopher replied with a shrug, but right now, it mostly caused a flood and a cat divorce.

By evening, the house was bathed in a quiet light. Sacha was still writing, Christopher was building a guitar out of rubber bands, and INFJ, notebook on his knees, wrote solemnly:

> I Never want to save everyone in a single day. But I Never give up on trying, either.

Max walked into the living room, arms crossed.

-I got a text from the landlord. Apparently, someone watered Mrs. Boulange's balcony?

INFJ raised his hand.

-It was... symbolic.

-Symbolically, you're paying for the repairs, Max shot back.

Léo burst out laughing and placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

-The important thing is that you tried, right?

Christopher bit into his double-sided toast.

-Yeah, and that you failed.

Sacha, without looking up from his screen:

-Chapter 3: The Hose Prophet. I feel like this is gonna be a bestseller.

INFJ rolled his eyes, a faint smile on his lips.

-I Never lose heart. Even when my family turns me into a literary satire.

And without realizing it, he had just applied the most important rule of all:

> I Never Forget Joy.