Break-up to make-up again and again


 

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INTJ here or inhuman, lacking emotion.

What’s at the root of differences, differing opinions? I can’t tell but they are vacuous and rampant.

Public displays of affection so prominent leave me askance, more when it comes to term. Despite my appreciation of love publicly claimed and I mean a deep appreciation of such, there’s a caveat. I hold the players responsible for the aftermath. It usually comes to roost.

Tell me nowadays how many people stay together till death and do so happily? Not many! Maybe that’s why I admire love, lovers, how they do, those who can show love, proudly, publicly, unashamed in the vitriol. It is not that there is anything to be ashamed about. They take pleasure in the other so much so they don’t mind letting the world know about it, it’s a beautiful thing.

There are some who are not as bold, they give hints that someone has touched them, that they’re loved and loving. They put out little notes, pictures taken lovingly, with a toe here or a finger there of the beloved, unsure whether to even hint they’re happy and loving or happily loved and they like it. Those are the cautious ones, the ones who realize how precious and precarious a state love is of late. Yet they can’t hide it and bask so subltly as only love you enjoy does. Love is a light. You can’t hold it down or ย cover it up. It leaks through everything ou come in contact with.

It’s like being on x. The thrill spills, unabashed.

And then there’s the kind of love, so deeply felt as some think that the lovers seem not to be able to part ways yet can’t seem to stick together for too long either. A wave and they fade away. A burn and they melt. They’re inconsistently loving and call it passion, Breaks occur ever so often once or more a year. This goes on and on and on, sometimes for decades. They’re addicted to each other they say, but what others see is an addiction to trouble and pain, a lack of growth and maturity, as well as lack of ownership of self, of time. Uhm, maybe not others, just me.

What the fuck is this all about? You’re over 30 (the beginning stage of grow the fuck up in my world, aka my head) and you waste years breaking up and making up over the same stupid shit or different little pieces of karkar!!! What are you getting out of this push and pull besides drama and trauma?!

I digress! My apologies dear friend (Mr, Robot, hint hint. If you know this I think I love you for the nerd you are, a piece of me.)!

Those lovers, so addicted to the chaos of each other, unwilling to let go, move the fuck on, will spend days on end sending hints about love lasting forever (psychopathy) and missing you subtleties…then one day one of them starts to date someone else (sexual needs demand it). How in the world can the other trust your love now? Here you were for years on social media, and to anyone you knew wallowing in longing so deep over someone you could never last long with like a yoyo and now you want us to believe this one is true or has a chance with you, that you’re able to rehabilitate?

Issues! (Love that song by the way). I got them aplenty. So here goes, when a man has spent years crying over pathological love and comes after me, I can’t trust you. Claiming someone as your love publicly means the world to me, especially coming from men, creatures with wandering lusts. For a man in my view to claim you in pictures and words is the ultimate connectedness and attachment. So no, unless that chick is ๐Ÿ’€ I know you’ll not be loving me better or as deeply and that chica will always have a hold on you and you may have not matured sufficiently to make her take several seats if we ever cross paths with her and she will know she had and will always have you like that, whooped and tied to her tatas and nanny. No other woman should have that much power over my man but me.

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Maybe this title should be “1 millionth reason why I’m still single.” Weirdo! That’s me! ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜

๐Ÿคข

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