it seems, once again that I have types. my types are based on previous prominent love interests.
type 1: p, nc, a
that seemingly perfect type who remains single for long periods of time, and for reason. the incredibly passionate art lover with an amazing amount of wit and wisdom. the type I wanna follow around to glimpse at the world through their pink colored glasses. unavoidably everyone wants them and I don’t stand a chance. I will never be able to be with one of these guys, only one night stands.
type 2: d, p (and b)
this is a very peculiar type that I cannot comprehend. this guy will inevitably come with a lot of baggage, and this baggage usually comes in the form of a baby. explain to me the psychology behind this cause I cannot figure it out.
type 3: p, b and l
this is the type that makes me feel good about myself, like no matter how stupid I get, their opinion of me will never change. I get peace of mind as I always feel redempted and therefore can lead my life the proper way.
type 4: m, b, k, t
these are people I convince myself to like due to similar cultural background. there’s always a lack of understanding, acceptance and chemistry that I cannot overcome.
type 5: s, l, a, p
inevitably through the mistakes I’ve made with people I really like (and thus them disappearing from my life like a transient mystery) I beg for a chance to do it over. often that fails as I try to shape these people into their original form. I yearn and I fail. I like you for the wrong reasons.
this one remains alone in this category as I haven’t dared touch or attempt to redeem myself through someone else. I often think of you as the only person I have ever really liked. I could never forget and forgive myself the disappointment I have caused you and the filth I have thrown myself in. I often think of you as my biggest mistake, but also my biggest secret.
why am I mentioning my types? cause I like a type 3 again. and I feel complete and happy. I won’t dare think of breaking this, I cannot. I cannot bear the thought of losing again whether by accident or my own self-sabotage. I refuse.
I will lead my life like chapter 4 of Watchmen. like Dr. Manhattan I will observe idly by while past, present and future happens in front of my very knowing eyes, and I will refuse to take part in it. kind of like a victim, but also in stubborn obstination not to provoke life but let it take its course.