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  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 💀 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! 😂😁

🤢

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INTJ-The curse, same remedy!


 

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It isn’t that I’m lonely as much as I’m alone. The weeks aren’t getting easier. I’m weakened by the effort of making the best of things so we may hot fall under. Yet, I’m counting the days in the back of my mind when freedom will open her arms.

No one understands, not even my mama who for a fact does love me, I’m burdened by duty. I’m tied by loyalty. I don’t want to fuck up. Not anymore. Not now. Not ever. I want to be free though.

Being practical the next recourse is a move for elevation. It kills me that I’m held back and down.

I spent the morning drowning in my tears, screaming to the skies and above. Someone asked if I’m okay.

Don’t do that! Who goes to a stranger sharing tales? Who does that, especially when you already know you’re a rare breed and no one will understand!!!!

On the bright side, I’m not analyzing what’s going on. I’m too busy drowning for thought. I find myself wishing karma exited though. But I know I’m just fooling myself into oblivion.

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You’ve survived, now it’s time to live (Part 1)


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I’m in love with words. Words and language captivate me. Maybe it isn’t “words” but the fact that words allow for the expression of thoughts. I think a lot, overthink everything and basically live in my head. Without words, my mind will explode.

I was walking towards the gym, my temple, my second home, the only place I erase thoughts, basically the outdoors of some, the escape we all need from the usual and ourselves and from my car to the door I explored many lives. That’s who I am and how I be.

My friend sent me a joke once online. I laughed and then commented. He responded “why do you have to overthink everything? It’s just a joke! You and my wife are the only two people I sent it to. She read it and laughed but you read it and had several thoughts about the underlying issues that she didn’t bring up.”

Because he is one of the sweet notes of my past, I allowed him his rant. I swallowed subsequent thoughts such as “I am not your wife. Maybe she thought them and didn’t say them. Maybe she was busy and cared less. I am the last woman you slept with before you said I do behind my back. That’s who I am. I overthink and you know it. Maybe that’s another reason you married her. Don’t compare me to your wife. Etcetera…” I didn’t. Those were my initial thoughts, with no emotions attached, just plain logic “speak”. The majority of folks tends to attribute emotions to words and I don’t. I’m able to think it, say it but not necessarily feel or ascribe emotions to what I say or hear, think, least to others’ words. A word is an idea, an attribute, the second emotions clog it up, it is more and we miss out on the message, the joy and depth of the idea it puts forth.

I’ve always known I’m one of those thinkers. I overthink everything and most times it is fun. I can create worlds within worlds in my mind. My thoughts keep me going and happy, most times. My thoughts entertain me, laughing quite often at its renderings.

At times, my thoughts consume me, overwhelm and steal my breath, my peace. As the French saying goes: “l’exces en tout nui.” That’s the reason I dislike anything I feel that is negative or that will bring me down. They won’t just be sporadic occurrences, I will carry them with me, for years on. Some folks forget what they say but I remember. As I don’t attach emotion readily to words, placing them first in the laboratory of my mind to play with, it takes me a while to be offended and hurt. Imagine! You make a statement and leave. But I, I take it and mull it over and over and over under different microscopic lights. I live in a world with layers, so I try to understand your statement from your perspective, within the context it was said, why you would say it, and why me yet not another and on and on and on. Once that process is done, usually days later I will then assess how to feel about it. The way I feel about it will be a result of the analysis. Yes! I am strange. So it takes me a while to know whether a statement is an insult, a compliment etc. Some may say I am slow I guess. Functionally within societal context, I really am, which comes across as naïveté that people can’t comprehend in a woman my age.

Once I start pondering how I feel about your statement I will now spend more days analyzing whether I care, why should I care and on and on and on. A conversation with me is basically endless. You may think we are done but in my head it is a long-winded exchange you’re just totally unaware of.

Maybe that’s why I am bold and often come across as harsh. I don’t attribute feelings to words and want to be clear so I won’t send anyone down the maze I go into after an exchange. So I tend to say things like it is, but trust that everything I say have been weighed. I mean what I say, in that moment. Well, unless other possibilities stemming from new pieces of information come under analysis. My words won’t be less meaningless, but amended, within the present context.

As I get older, becoming more aware of who I am, the way I am I have learned to compartmentalize. I am getting better at hearing and not mulling, too much. I must remain sane.

My friend has probably forgotten what he said by now. The same way all the people I have known an family members have forgotten how they used to call me weird, in a way that I am abnormal, that something is wrong with me for not behaving, thinking, talking doing like everyone else they know. I remember though.

In hindsight, the horse’s dung, I feel he expressed displeasure, annoyance to the fact I am not like his wife, that I didn’t behave the way he wanted me to. The fact he said that to me showed how close we are as well, how he trusts me enough to share something he felt though crude I wouldn’t judge him for. He also underlined differences, uniqueness. Yes, I am different. We all are. And we are not everyone’s cup of tea. I’m a glass of Johnny and Henny neat what can I say?

Words move me, hold me, define me, us, everything. I take full responsibility for my words but as for feelings, your feelings or mine, they’re up to us. Do words control feelings? Hardly! Do we control feelings? We should. We really should.

I must say my greatest “ah ha!” moment was having a name for the way I am. Through the years I have taken many of these psych tests for fun but when a friend reached out to me to assist further in my quest for self awareness and knowledge, having a profile, a name for the way I am really centered me. It came at the right time and I was ready to embrace it. I have a name for my disease. I am not alone, rare, extremely rare and different from the rest but not weird, that bad kind of weird, though freeing weird that I enjoy.

I am INTJ!

That’s something isn’t it?

Yeah! I’m not like everyone else. I rather indeed be out of the spotlight, learning, questioning, pondering, seeking knowledge and continue to value connections based on truth and knowledge. Anyone who knows me knows I HATE lies, liars and abhor acquaintance-ship, valuing deep connections instead. I can’t handle touch and go “ships” of any sort.
I know who I am and there’s a name for me mama, I am not weird at all.
“It’s lonely at the top, and being one of the rarest and most strategically capable personality types, INTJs form just two percent of the population, and women of this personality type are especially rare, forming just 0.8% of the world’s population –

A paradox to most observers, INTJs are able to live by glaring contradictions that nonetheless make perfect sense – at least from a purely rational perspective. For example, INTJs are simultaneously the most starry-eyed idealists and the bitterest of cynics, a seemingly impossible conflict.

INTJs are brilliant and confident in bodies of knowledge they have taken the time to understand, but unfortunately the social contract is unlikely to be one of those subjects. White lies and small talk are hard enough as it is for a type that CRAVES TRUTH and DEPTH but INTJs may go so far as to see many social conventions as downright stupid.
Ironically, it is often best for them to remain where they are comfortable – out of the spotlight.”

 

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