When I say “we got drunk on poison,” I don’t mean only the alcohol—though there was plenty of that. Even those who never touch a drop drank deeply. I’m not talking about the smoke we inhaled beyond our usual limits, nor the venomous words we sometimes hurled at one another. I mean the people who turned us poisonous toward ourselves. Because poison is also medicine. Without them—just as they are—we would never have moved forward toward individuation, toward integrating the shadow. Yes, this was the year of the SHADOW: it emerged, shattered silences, tore through the veils beneath which it had been hidden. Masks fell (and will continue to fall until April; after that there is nowhere left to hide—once Mars leaves Pisces, he will switch off the lights and rip away the final mask of the “anonymous”). Interestingly, since I’ve mentioned it, the Anonymous movement appeared in 2011, the very year Neptune entered Pisces.

In one of his lectures, Alan Watts observed that, whether studying human nature in the East or the West, he kept encountering the same recurring patterns across generations, cultures, and social or economic conditions. Certain types of people appear regardless of circumstance—they have always existed and always will. From this he concluded that there are seven types we should approach with clear-eyed caution: see them plainly, without illusion; trust our intuition and feelings; stop denying or stubbornly seeking excuses for their behavior. The point is not to hate, despise, or judge them. It is to recognize them—and to understand that they never appear by accident. Not to us. Not now.

They themselves are unlikely ever to change. They will not suddenly become what, in our naïveté and resistance to facing the shadow, we most wish they would be. For the shadow to activate, someone has to do more than nudge it—they have to kick it hard, crush it, stab it close-range a few good times. That is why these people are both enemies and the best friends we could have. Casual coffees and shared jokes are worthless if these seemingly benign souls never force us to grow, to evolve, to integrate. Of course, that assumes we are ready and capable of further ripening and integration at all. Jung repeatedly stressed that people develop only up to a certain level, after which it is easier to flee from themselves—to flee from the future, integrated version of themselves—simply because completing the process is too painful and exhausting. At some point a person must confront their own absurdity: the absurdity of control, calculation, hidden agendas, the futility of their lies, imagined roles, and masks—upon which they have built an entire world. Or they must face the darkness they carry (and not only the light). Concretely, they must finally dare to disappoint others. To betray the old self. To become unnecessary, alone, to exist without an audience or external validation. To do what the earlier version of themselves, in blind loyalty, would never have done.

Before listing the seven types Alan Watts described—of which four appeared to me with striking clarity in 2025—I should add that we all carry elements of some of them within us, though we are often unaware of it.

These, then, are the types I finally saw clearly in the Year of the Snake. Some have been in my life for over twenty years, others even longer. Yes. The insights arrived instantly, without doubt or hesitation—clear the way only true insight can be, needing no explanation or justification.

First: The Eternal Victim

People who—when asked—are never at fault. Others are to blame, or circumstances, or cruel life, the world, bad luck, fate, cosmic injustice. They have explanations for every failure, disappointment, collapse—yet never, ever are they themselves responsible. In their world, others are cruel. Life is nothing but suffering and unfairness, and that suffering has become part of their identity. You recognize them because they wear their losses, tragedies, even mistakes like medals. No one treats them fairly, and if you haven’t yet, sooner or later you too will become their oppressor, aggressor, tyrant. They simply need you as an enemy (they provoke aggression, punishment, push you past your limits of composure). To remain their friend you must see life exactly as they do: admire their wounds and torments, glorify their tragedies, respect their dramas to the point of morbidity. Everyone else becomes a source of their pain. Usually you only recognize them later, after years of rescuing them. The moment you act differently—in a single second—you become the traitor, the bloodthirsty inquisitor, the heartless monster. They will never take responsibility for anything. Ever. Hope, effort, conversation—all in vain. They do not want help. For them, “there’s no help for me” is the truth, and the world is cruel.Watts recalled: “I remember talking with a man who told me every friend he ever had betrayed him, every business partner cheated him, every woman he loved left him. As he spoke, he seemed almost proud, as if a life full of betrayal proved something about his noble character in an unjust world. I asked, ‘In all these betrayals, have you never considered your own part in attracting or creating those situations?’ He looked at me as though I had slapped him. The question was unbearable because it threatened the very foundation of his identity.”

My 2025 epilogue with this type: I survived the guilt of not helping, not reacting, not being there, not coming, not calling. Since this is a pattern I’ve carried before, in 2025 I simply absolved myself. Before the God who sees and knows everything, I feel no shame at all.

Second: The Righteous Crusader

There were many of these, given the political and social climate here and across the world. You probably had one too—or perhaps you played the role yourself. Their motto: “My truth is the only truth; anyone not on my side is the enemy.” Objectivity: zero. Everyone must be converted, baptized—or shot if they refuse to submit. That is roughly how they operate. In their eyes they are missionaries, benefactors, guardians of justice and the world. They are utterly blind to hearing anyone else, let alone accepting they might be wrong. Passion is not the problem; the problem is refusing to listen and then reconsider. They cannot and will not. Any disagreement is a personal attack. You recognize them because even over trivial matters they cannot shift. They have already placed you among the unenlightened, primitive, corrupt; everything you say is wrong, and only their opposite view is right. They do not know how to listen. They merely wait their turn to disagree and gaslight you with “How can you even say that?”

My 2025 epilogue: conversations with them always ended abruptly, but I confronted them with the fear that floods them—the fear of life’s uncertainty, the need to rigidly defend their beliefs instead of learning something new. This includes the perennial type who dismiss astrology out of hand without ever trying to understand it—the “Go on, explain it to me” attitude that is already condescending, discrediting both speaker and subject before a word is spoken. There is no talking with them. No need. They are not essential.

Third: The User

If you are among their “friends,” you must serve a function they have assigned you. When they need something, they are warm and affectionate; once they no longer need you, they distance themselves and discard you. Unlike ordinary relationships where we all give and take, the User has no interest in you as a person. Only if your work directly profits them will they show interest—checking how things are going, wondering if they might benefit too. The benefit is not always material; it can be your skill, energy, time, attention, contacts, boosts—everything adds up. Whether you are happy, how you truly are, what changes you are going through—none of that concerns them in the slightest. They are masters of words, showering you with compliments, making you feel special beside them. And to some extent it is true: you were carefully selected, chosen as the best for what they want. But once it’s over—whether they got what they wanted through you or everything fell apart—they become too busy, unavailable, and will use the most inventive (often bizarre) ways to drive you out of their life. Usually they are already scouting their next useful host.Watts wrote: “I remember a man I knew years ago who had an extraordinary network of contacts. He seemed to know everyone and everyone loved him. But I noticed the pattern: he would attach himself to successful or influential people, intensively cultivate the friendship for a while, extract the benefit—introductions, opportunities, resources—then move on to the next target. Those he had used later spoke of him with a confused sense of hurt, unable to quite articulate what had happened, yet feeling somehow diminished afterward.”

From my own 2025 experience, the reason those people felt “confused hurt,” as Watts puts it, is that the User feels not the slightest guilt. No remorse. Nothing. He has convinced himself everyone does it and refuses to see how spiritually impoverished he is—forever incapable of genuine human connection. That is why they live by transaction and are terribly depressed, especially later in life when looks fade. When younger, sweeter, more attractive, their behavior is more easily tolerated, forgiven. I survived him too.

Fourth: The Envious Destroyer

The person who cannot bear another’s success or happiness. If they cannot have what you have, they would rather not see you at all—or better, that everything falls apart for you. Everything is “shit.” Tell them something good is happening and they will either diminish your achievement, mock what matters deeply to you, or swiftly change the subject to something trivial. Their own (often pseudo) successes they exalt to the heavens, shoddily done. They envy you but would die before admitting it. At best they fall silent and remove themselves. When they start discrediting, they package it as “I just want to be realistic.” But only you know that after sharing something with them you feel drained and diminished, not supported. If you are strong enough, you simply regret having told them and resolve never to do it again. They act as though they carry the light while you stand in shadow—completely, utterly unjustified. They camouflage their fear of being nobody by projecting it onto you, as long as you give them the power. When you stop, they simply vanish without asking what happened. At least that was my experience.Four types in one year—plenty for me. They gnawed at me, but it passes. According to Watts, the remaining three—the Chronic Manipulator, the Chronic Liar, and the Merchant of Chaos—await some future year.

The chaos-bringer might appear in 2026, the Year of the Fire Horse; the Chinese say that is when chaos spreads, yet freedom and optimism bloom.Here, for your 2025 recapitulation, are the final three according to Watts:

Fifth: The Chronic Manipulator

Harder to spot at first because they are charming and skilled at reading people. They use no direct force—only emotional pressure, guilt, the desire to be loved or needed. For them, relationships are a game to be won. Often they play it so naturally they are unaware they are playing. You know it is them when the relationship leaves you feeling guilty, or driven to prove you can do even better, feeling “not enough” and overcompensating. In any case, at some point you realize everything you do with them is under pressure, not from genuine desire. They know exactly which buttons to press. Every kindness, every affection comes with a price, a demand, a repayment. Like the User, they never form sincere bonds. In truth they have no one. Always calculating, controlling, waiting. Endlessly patient and gifted actors.

I think I rarely have trouble with this type—not because I spot them easily, but because I cannot do anything under pressure if I do not truly enjoy it.

Sixth: The Chronic Liar

Reality for them is whatever currently serves their purpose. They do not lie about everything—often they tell enough truth to make the lies believable. That makes them dangerous. They blend sincerity and deception so skillfully you cannot tell where one ends and the other begins. What separates them from occasional liars is the complete absence of guilt or discomfort when distorting reality. Lying becomes second nature; over time they even start believing their own fabrications. Their identity shifts like a chameleon adapting to surroundings. Without truth there is no real self and no real relationship. Everything is performance.

I probably encountered them this year too, but I did not detect them—my radar is weak for this one.

Seventh and last: The Merchant of Chaos

The person who seems to attract drama and crisis wherever they go. There is always an emergency, a catastrophe, some terrible situation that could only happen to them. And always, always they manage to drag others into their chaos. For them chaos is not occasional—it is their natural state; they are addicted to intensity. Calm feels like death. So accustomed to crisis and stress, they literally do not know how to function without it. When life begins to stabilize, they unconsciously create a new crisis: arguments, impulsive decisions, problems where none existed—either in themselves or in an environment kept chaotic as a reliable reserve of drama. Helping them only amplifies the drama, confirms the pattern, and feeds them attention and intensity.Watts recalled: “I remember a woman who would call me at any hour of day or night, always with some urgent crisis. The landlord was threatening eviction. The boss was unfair. The family was betraying her. Her health was failing. She needed advice, support, help—immediately. For a while I tried to help, but I began to notice that no matter how one crisis resolved, another was waiting. The moment one drama ended, the next began. You cannot trust a Merchant of Chaos because they will inevitably pull you into their turmoil. Their emergency will become yours. Their drama will become yours, and your life—which may have been relatively calm and stable—will become stormy and exhausting.”