Alone in his room, Prince found himself lost in a whirlpool of thoughts. His mind replayed the same harsh truths over and over:
"You can't survive in this world if you can't communicate," he thought bitterly. "You'll be a failure if you don't sharpen your communication skills. If you can't explain your feelings, then you're useless."
As these thoughts swirled around his mind, Prince felt a familiar weight pressing down on his chest. "When you step out of your imaginary world," he continued thinking, "you realize that your negative thoughts are sometimes more accurate than your positive ones. Even if you don't criticize yourself and try to stay motivated, people around you are always there to remind you that you're useless."
He sighed deeply, feeling the weight of these truths pressing down on him. "Even if I try my best, something always comes up to remind me again that I'm useless," he mused. "In the real world, things don't go the way you want them to. Everything goes according to the system—sometimes in your favor, sometimes against you."
Year after year, Prince tried to improve himself. "I try to show a new version of myself whenever I go somewhere new," he reflected. "But people see right through me. They recognize my introverted, sensitive, nervous personality within seconds. They don't even give me time to show something different, and I'm forced to continue being the person they think I am. Some people try to interact with me, but I rarely reply back. Most of the time, I just ignore them or answer in a few words, or with a simple 'yes' or 'no.' Sometimes I want to open up, but they don't seem interested in me."
He closed his eyes, feeling the sting of isolation. "I'm a human being, just like everyone else," he thought. "I want to interact with others, to enjoy life, to be part of social events, to share in happiness and sadness, to be famous, to achieve success, to fulfill my dreams. But all these things feel fake to me because I've never felt like a real human. It's true that I can't say no one in this world understands me because there are others like me—other INFJs. But I feel different, even from them. They're useful in some way, but I'm totally useless."
Prince's thoughts spiraled deeper into his self-doubt. "There's nothing I've achieved by myself," he lamented. "I don't even know what I've done so far. I know criticizing myself is a bad thing, but it's important to realize that I'm just trying to fit into a world that was never made for me. I always feel like an alien."
His mind wandered to the kind-hearted people he had met. "I've met so many good, supportive people in my life who have been caring toward me," he acknowledged. "But what have I done for them? There's no way I can help them, and they never ask for my help anyway."
He felt a pang of frustration. "I have such weird traits," he admitted to himself. "I try to turn them into strengths, but they always seem like a waste. I don't have a skill that I can say I'm a master at. There's nothing special about me, except being useless."
"People always see me as different," Prince continued, his thoughts heavy. "I don't know why, but they always create an image of me, and I'm forced to live up to that image. It's difficult for me to communicate, even when it's necessary because I'm not confident in my words or actions. And if I say the wrong thing, they might misunderstand."
Living in this world requires more social skills than anything else, Prince thought. "Does that mean an introvert can't be successful in life?" he asked himself. "In my opinion, the answer is no. I think introverts can be just as successful as extroverts, but they have to believe that they need to act a little more extroverted—or maybe a lot more."
Prince felt a sense of futility wash over him. "Even when I try, it doesn't produce results," he lamented. "I always end up back at the starting point, having to start all over again. I have reasons for every action, every word I say. Like, for example, why I don't talk much. Most people always ask me that question, but I have no answer to give them. But inside, there's an answer forming, and it's my biggest fear—the fear of separation."
He sighed again, feeling the depth of his isolation. "I think all these fears and being highly sensitive and emotional make me a useless person. My sensitivity is so high that even I can't control it. It's out of my hands. I can't tolerate when someone yells at me. It would be better to hurt me physically rather than emotionally."
Prince's thoughts felt like a never-ending cycle of negativity. "There are too many problems to discuss about me," he thought sadly. "I wish there was something good in me too, but there isn't. People always tell me to speak louder, but I feel a little disappointed whenever I have to speak in front of a group of people. They put so much pressure on me, and my mind just stops working. I can hear their voices yelling at me to say something, but I can't speak a single word. In the end, they have to accept the fact that I'm useless, that I can't say a single thing."
He wished he could escape from this world. "People are good, but they can't coordinate with me—or maybe I can't coordinate with them," he thought. "All these negative thoughts are temporary, but they always leave a huge question mark on my existence and a heavy regret in my heart."