People hear “INTP” and assume it means gifted, high-IQ, emotionally-detached spreadsheet demons. In truth, it’s often more like: low-energy, constantly distracted, prone to tangents about hypothetical futures where the Roman Empire invented the internet.

I don’t think I’m smarter than the average person. If anything, I suspect I’m just more mentally itchy—always thinking, rarely acting, easily distracted by a new idea that seems more interesting than the task at hand. It’s less “brilliant thinker” and more “philosopher trapped in a depressed teenager’s sleep cycle.”

Being an INTP often means battling a stream of weird internal loops:

• Getting stuck in theoretical rabbit holes no one asked for
• Daydreaming at inopportune moments (e.g. while cooking, mid-sentence, in meetings)
• Neglecting responsibilities because I forgot the outside world still exists
• Being too honest, too blunt, or too lost in thought to notice I’ve offended someone
• Taking so long to make decisions that I miss the opportunity entirely
• Remaining silent for hours, then suddenly going on a five-paragraph monologue because something clicked

I tend to live in my head more than I should. I’m rarely bored, and I chase ideas the way some people chase social cues. That said, I’m not pretending to be above validation. I write this blog, after all. But it’s less about attention and more about coherence—getting the thoughts out, shaping them, pinning them down in a format I can return to and refine. Sharing it publicly is a bonus if someone else relates, though I doubt anyone actually reads this blog—and that’s fine. The act of writing is the reward. If it resonates with someone else, great. If not, I’ve still clarified something for myself.

Let’s be honest—most online discussions about MBTI devolve into shouting matches between:

• “It’s literally pseudoscience, you idiot.”
• “No it’s not, I’m such a textbook INFJ lol.”

Here’s my take: MBTI isn’t gospel, but it’s not nonsense either. It's a framework. Not everything has to be scientific in order to be useful. Art isn't scientific. Religion isn't scientific. Human behavior rarely is. But we use models to make sense of it anyway, because the alternative is staring at chaos.

If you’re expecting MBTI to predict your fate or diagnose you with metaphysical precision, that’s on you. For me, it’s a way to recognize patterns—habits, frustrations, wiring—and maybe catch myself before I fall into them too hard.

Yes, MBTI tests are self-reported. No, that doesn’t make them worthless. Most people aren’t completely deluded about themselves—they just need the right questions to shake out a few realizations. Besides, we self-report our lives all the time. Conversations, therapy, art—it’s all self-narration.

Do I have biases? Of course. But so does everyone. If MBTI helps you see your own blind spots or habits more clearly, that’s a win in my book.

There’s some overlap between stereotypical INTP traits and what people associate with being on the spectrum—intense interests, introversion, social awkwardness. But INTPs can usually recognize and adjust to social norms once they’re made aware. It’s not an immovable barrier; it’s just not instinctive.

Autism involves sensory issues, emotional regulation challenges, and often a completely different set of social processing hardware. INTPs aren't broken—we’re just tuned differently, often more inwardly than outwardly.

You might not notice us in a room, but we’re probably there—mentally rewriting the room's floorplan or wondering what would happen if Plato ran a Discord server.

I don’t live and die by MBTI. But I do find it oddly comforting to have a label that reflects the mental terrain I walk every day.

INTP isn’t a badge of superiority. It’s more like a technical limitation notice.

It says:

This unit may take longer to respond. May crash when given deadlines. May generate strange ideas and forget to share them. Handle with curiosity.

And honestly, that’s not such a bad way to live.