I get compliments from girls when I dress up. Boys, too, every once in a while. I have a lot of friends, boys and girls. I look at photographs of myself and think that I’m pretty 9 times out of 10.
So why do I only attract the flighty boys? And as for my friends who are boys, what is it about my personality that means I’m the friend with whom you laugh and cry and talk everything with, but that’s it. Just talk. Nothing beyond that, ever.
I’m a sanguine phlegmatic. I get excited easily, am affectionate, have low energy levels. I am generally optimistic to the point of tears. By that, I mean I am crying with optimism. Wait, that doesn’t help either. I am optimistic as I am bawling my eyes out. I am a conglomerate of two vastly different personalities: the extrovertive introvert. I am laid back and easy-going, a peacemaker, passive unless I am acting for somebody else. I inspire people, but sometimes I lie. I am talkative, my best defense is my dry sense of humor when attacked or when I must attack someone else. I try too hard usually, when it comes to relationships. I am always trying to balance between that trying too hard and conserving my energy.
So perhaps I am the problem. I mean, I said that already, but I guess it’s more clear when I look at this. One google hit says the sanguine phlegmatic holds deep relationships away with a sense of humor in order to protect my low energy levels. I am flighty, always changing. It becomes apparent that being bipolar might be partly personality based. I am the laughing/crying girl. Just depends, I guess.
I can’t focus. I can’t last. I jump around. Life is like a dance for me. Sometimes I am sitting down, worn out, resting. Sometimes I am dancing madly, madly. I suppose I go big and go home in a quick cycle and come back for more at the earliest possible moment. I am so honest it hurts, I seek beauty so brilliant it hurts, I am after the Sun, the Form of the Good.
Sorry this post is angsty, poorly written in the passive voice, uses the word “I” much too much. I am just worn out, and must put forth all my energy into a paper about obedience in Paradise Lost. This isn’t even a daily post, really, I just had to say something. Maybe I’m getting sick or something. Last night, I was up at 4 in the morning watching Leave It To Beaver in Spanish.
There’s that dry sense of humor again.