[Intro – spoken, dry humor]
Yeah, I can give relationship advice.
I’m no expert.
Unless you count the book I wrote…
while avoiding relationships to finish it.

[Verse 1]
Sorry I’m late—park bench confessional,
a stranger poured his whole autobiography.
Sorry I’m late—someone said “hi,” and I lived
three hours of dialogue strictly in my head, privately.
I don’t fit in, nobody gets me, that’s the myth I wear like armor—
and the day somebody actually saw me?
I flinched and walked away,
back to my favorite corner.

I feel what you feel—no, worse, I feel the room,
the dog, the lamp, the color blue’s mood.
Three is heartbreak, five is irritated,
nine is chaos—keep it gated.
Call it “too much,” call it “strange,”
I call it a nervous system with surround-sound range.

[Pre-Chorus]
I wish I could stop overthinking—
but if I don’t, it feels reckless, like driving with no brakes.
You say “meditate,” I hear “be smaller.”
I say “wilderness,” and I mean it, for my sanity’s sake.

[Chorus]
I’m a Rubik’s cube you can’t solve in the dark,
a quiet mind playing chess in the park.
Try to get under my skin, you’ll just meet your own reflection—
I don’t do drama, I do correction.
I disappear to stay kind, I go silent to stay true—
call it confusing—
I call it self-rescue.

[Verse 2]
They call it “genius ways I confuse my adversaries,”
I call it “defense mechanisms,” necessary.
First: the mirroring maze—bring heat, I bring it back,
not louder, just cleaner, like a moral attack.
You come in crooked, I turn into glass,
and suddenly you’re staring at yourself too fast.

Second: information vault—
I heard you, months ago, when you thought it didn’t count.
I file patterns, not gossip, not to win, just to see—
and when you push for control, I pull one thread and you freeze.

[Pre-Chorus]
I don’t threaten, I observe.
I don’t shout, I let time serve.
You play checkers, quick and loud—
I play consequences, slow and proud.

[Chorus]
I’m a Rubik’s cube you can’t solve in the dark,
a quiet mind playing chess in the park.
Try to get under my skin, you’ll just meet your own reflection—
I don’t do drama, I do correction.
I disappear to stay kind, I go silent to stay true—
call it confusing—
I call it self-rescue.

[Verse 3]
Third: emotional aikido—
you swing with manipulation, I step aside, let it go.
Gaslight me? I get curious—
ask one calm question and your script turns delirious.
Fourth: selective vulnerability—
I’ll name a weakness so you can’t weaponize it,
while my real strengths stay unadvertised, silent.

Fifth: patience paradox—
you expect a reaction, I give you a blank page.
You think you won; I’m just waiting
for the pattern to show its full shape.
Sixth: authenticity shield—
shame doesn’t work when I already made peace with my odd.
“Too sensitive?” Correct. “Too idealistic?” Yep.
Now what’ve you got?

[Bridge – darker, cinematic]
Seventh: the invisible network—
not many people, but the right ones.
Loyal, values-first, built over years,
not favors, not politics—just trust that appears
the moment you try to isolate me.

And here’s the part they miss:
this isn’t offense, it’s ethics.
I don’t hunt conflict—
I quarantine it.
I protect what’s real
in a world that sells masks as merit.

[Final Chorus – bigger, triumphant]
I’m a Rubik’s cube you can’t solve in the dark,
a quiet mind playing chess in the park.
Try to get under my skin, you’ll just meet your own reflection—
I don’t do drama, I do correction.
I disappear to stay kind, I go silent to stay true—
call it “weird,” call it “rare,” call it “genius”—
I call it self-rescue.

[Outro – spoken, soft punchline]
Which INFJ behavior do I relate to most?
Yes.