How would you metaphorically describe the experience of being an INTP?

Here's my attempt:

I feel like my mind was concieved an empty void to retreat to when the real world was too overwhelming or boring. Thing is, the real world was like that most of the time, so I ended up spending most of my days in this quiet void. In time, I made it my home, but one can only be entertained by a void for so long. I started bringing souvenirs from the real world into it, facts I'd picked up, observations I'd made, stories I'd heard. They began to occupy this empty space, and I immediately felt the instinct to organize these materials, work with them, shape them into something beautiful and sturdy. It was shit. My first organization of ideas was terrible, lots of logical fallacies and biases. It crumbled like a crouton. However, I quickly learned it's not the materials that were faulty - it was my organization of them.

I got more materials and continued building, organizing, sorting, and with time, my creations became stabler, more comfortable, more fascinating. They were torn down again and again, and it was painful every time, but all the more rewarding as I saw it getting stronger and stronger. Nowadays, I spend my time in this void, roaming this castle I've made, reviewing information, fixing leaks, sometimes tearing whole floors down or adding new ones. I am a constant housekeeper and engineer of this castle in my head, compulsively sorting it and tearing it down to build it back up again - I couldn't be happier doing so.