Bullshit Geshtalt Analysis 101.

Ah, I miss the damaged psycho-women I've known over the years.

Beautifully broken.

I think that's the popular term for it now, the ones that I seem drawn to.

I don't know why.

I use to worry that maybe I had some sort of sick hero complex going or something equally pathetic, but the more years I spend dwelling on it the more I realize that they are the only ones I can truly relax around (which is strange considering the mutual mis-trust and paranoia).

I just feel comfortable around them for some reason, and that comfort means that I can be almost completely honest. No bullshit, no head games, no embarrassment, no desire to impress or protect or shelter; just honest conversation with as much wit, sarcasm, sorrow, humor, compassion, love, or anger as the situation dictates.

I think it's because, no matter how fucked up I may be, I'm not quite as fucked up as the ones who went before.

Of course we always end up damaging each other eventually.

I guess that's just the way it has to be...

Anyway, I've had worse...
and so have they.