What’s my type?
What’s my type?
My type is something that I have discovered over the years through the triumphs and failures on the matters of the heart ((wow)). It’s something that I’ve never really given much thought but soon realized has been guiding my unconscious attraction towards people, whether through romantic inclination or not. It may be one out of the many or a combination of all, these are all they have in common.
Someday, my prince will come. Charot.
My type is a morenx beauty. Someone who is not afraid to get their skin kissed by the sun, touched by the outdoors, alive with the sense of adventure. They are someone not washed out by the light’s harsh rays, but rather embraces it as they venture towards it with the curiosity of a child. Their tanned skin is something that I will be proud of because it shows culture, it shows heritage and origin. It shows the mark of someone comfortable in their own skin.
My type is one who wears glasses, whose eyes desire to see things that only four eyes can. They may have stayed up an extra hour reading that book in the glow of a flashlight because it was impossible to put down. They may have stayed a bit longer in front of that screen of lit pixels, learning as much information to store in their stock knowledge or defeating that boss to achieve the ultimate prize and sense of fulfillment despite the strain in their eyes. Or they may have inherited their four-eyed condition from the people who desired to see things as much as they did, born from the same desire and curiosity and love for something new.
My type is one who is unique. They always have a knack for the unusual and that’s what makes them inherently one of a kind. They may have a green streak in their untame and unruly hair, making them stand out from the rest. They may have qualities that are as diverse as the hats they put on everyday. They may also have quirks and passions they nerd out about because what better way to know a person than to see them talk about what they’re passionate about. That way I know that they are the only person who catches my eye.
My type is one who laughs. They laugh never at you, but with you and for you, giving away smiles as if they were candies during Halloween. Their laughs are the most infectious ones I’ve ever heard, their sound music to everyone’s ears but a symphony to mine. They crack the funniest―and at times, the corniest―jokes that I can’t help but let out a laugh at. They say the simplest things to make sure that you smile no matter how bad your day is going. They see through the façade you put up and ask how you are, and that’s enough to elicit a smile from me.
My type is one who sings. No, not just those who are vocally talented. They sing with so many mediums, through their voices, their music, their movement, all done with a song in their hearts. It doesn’t matter how the song comes out. What matters is that there was a song to begin with, a song that longed to be heard. Its frequency, I’m sure, was just enough to mingle with mine and complement the melody I have in me too, making sure that those sound waves don’t cancel out.
My type is someone who stands with confidence, sure in every step they take. They tend to be taller too so it comes to a point where I definitely look up to them but I make sure that they never look down on me ever again. They are someone I can also be on equal footing with in a harmonious relationship with every other quality I’ve said before.
My type is one who is smart. Their confident stance bleeds into their intricate minds. They analyze details to its barebones for the solutions, they know how to talk to people with true charm and wit, they calculate their moves to unwittingly make their way into my emotions and my heart and that’s what makes my fragile heart fall.
Ultimately, though, this type may be nothing to what the Fates have laid out for me. Initial attractions can almost always prove to be lies. Ultimately, they’re human too and they make mistakes, a ton of them. Over time, these types can fade, replaced by someone who you may not know anymore.
My type, upon reaching this stage, is revealed to be one who is also broken. One who knows their flaws but fails to make amends because their flaw is being broken as well. I can’t have this type because this type is me. And my tendency towards this is to fix them because I’m fixing myself too. I can’t stand to see someone I saw as my type hurting with the same problems as me, whether they’re conscious about these problems or not. Either way, my type is in need of healing too, but we shouldn’t have to entirely depend on each other because we have to learn to stand on our own two feet too.
No. My true type should also be someone who knows their flaws and acknowledges them. Someone who can face their demons and stand up to them. One who can pick themselves up from the ashes and rise again. Someone who realizes that they can indeed do this with the people they love, including their family and friends, including me, and especially including themselves.
My true type is a friend, one who may or may not be all of this already because I know that I’ll accept them in spite of and despite these types. One who understands. One who will stay. One who knows how to treat me right because we taught one another how to treat each other right. One I can trust. One I will never give up on.
That’s the type I want to be to the right person, too.
// 8/8/2018, 11.04 pm; finished 8/9/2018, 12.02 pm
hWOO sarap kiligin hwoo HAHA CHAR. Used they/them/their pronouns to relate to any sex and gender; we want to be inclusive of course hehe.
Stay awesome, nerds. ✨
