Is man meant to be judged by his actions, or the content of his character? Is the worth of one established through who he is, or what he does? Are these things exclusive, or one in the same? These are the questions I fear, for after a short multiple-choice questionnaire I filled out online, now I am become Myers-Briggs Personality Type INTJ, Destroyer Of Worlds, and I worry for the future.
Sticks and stones were once the height of man’s destruction, but now we stand on the shoulders of God, casting down fire and character identifiers based on a series of agree/disagree responses to the world below. And what twist of cruel fate is it that I find myself to be the most blasphemes of them all. The INTJ, Destroyer Of Worlds, most powerful of all the personality types according to several convincing memes I found. The General, the Conquester, the Unable To Assimilate Into Social Settings So They Pet The Dog At The Party Until The Pretzels Run Out And Then They Drive Home Telling Themselves That Was A Good Night Out. I weep, knowing I may never be normal again, wondering when my power will overtake me.
If you were born with swords for hands, would you assume you were a death machine or an aspiring butcher? If your breath were fire, would you be an arsonist or a butcher who just couldn’t breathe on the meats? If you were Myers-Briggs Personality Type INTJ, what choice would you have besides quickly assuming control of the world, driven by your inescapable psychological affliction of “preferring a good book over a Broadway show”?
Oh devil, why must your talons sink so deep? Before this test, I was but an unassuming seventeen year old in Intro To Psychology, blissfully unaware of my eventual conquest. I was a boy, but now I find myself a blood hungry warlord based off of a twelve-minute test I took while listening to Hoodie Allen. In the mirror, all I see is an atom bomb of introversion, a pillar of solitude that “often finds it difficult to introduce themselves to others”. Oh devil, why have you chosen me to bare your burden? This inevitable power, position, and “fondness of organization”.
Could I have been an ESFP or ENFJ, perhaps my path would be different, paved with flowers and “reliability to other people’s feelings”. I could have opened up that deli I always talked about, rather than spending night after night studying military tactics and learning mahjong. A life of peace, free from “responding to emails quickly” and having to dictate which of my people will get the grain stocks to survive the long winter ahead. That is the life I will never see.
Perhaps there will come a day when my predetermined character traits fade, after the books of my rule have been written and “workplace events I have trouble taking part in” come to fruition. Then perhaps I will be able to “stop contemplating human existence” just long enough to “initiate a conversation”. But I must wait until my Myers-Briggs Personality Type runs its course, the only true factor in this uncertain world.