A purely Machiavellian day

My dog just stole my underwear, not the one that is on me, she grabbed it from somewhere in the house. Since I am not a tidy person, anything can be found anywhere.

My friend, who happens to be my neighbor, came by two hours ago, we talked for an hour and a half, about our problems, ambitions, life plans and past dramas.

I enjoy my conversations with him very much. He is not the only person whom I openly discuss my Machiavellian ideas with, but he is the only one who understands my schemes and the reasons behind them.

It’s not like we are talking about overthrowing empires or scamming millions of people, no, we mostly discuss approaches, and practices, that result in a stronger influence over the people whom we want to have an influence over.

I tend to see this pattern in my personal life and past relationships, that whenever somebody is overly good at something, whether it be charisma, attractiveness, cunningness or anything, I become very attracted to them.

To a degree in which they are on my mind most of the time, and I am unable to stop thinking about them after I find myself thinking about them.

After my relationship with them ends, something strange happens.

When I am in a situationship in which I know how they would respond, I immediately and subconsciously react like them.

It’s like after my relationship with someone whom I admire a lot is concluded, I somehow inherit the essence of their being…

Their characteristics, their ways of thinking, their methods of responding to events, etc. I absorb all of them, they become a part of me, after we say goodbye for good.

First my ex, then a smart friend of mine. I can pinpoint only these two occasions, but I am pretty sure that since I became aware of these effect, a retroactive process started to run through all of my experiences and memories, and to this day, it is still running.

All the people whom I admired and worshipped silently, who were as untouchable and majestic as Gods and Goddesses, once I understood them, once I comprehended the inner-workings of their minds, they were dethroned, descended from the heaven of my imagination, and turned to ashes.

No longer a saint, no longer perfect, now dead.

But a part of me.

That came out to be really poetic, maybe I have some wordsmith-blood in my veins after all!