Take a Peak Behind the Mask

"Success is the sole earthly judge of right and wrong."- Adolf Hitler

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Cat Strangler

So last night I foolishly stayed up to a ridiculous hour, like 5 am if you must know. Of course, part of my justification was I had nothing to do tomor-err, today. Surprise surprise though, guess what happened? Something came up. I suppose the name for such unexpected and inconvenient occurrences is Murphy's Law, which states that "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong."

Well, unfortunately for me, the bloody bastard was dead on. My Gran comes home from work around 9, and demands *I* take her back, as she's forgotten something and her.. 'back hurts'. Lovely. But of course being the gracious and loving grandchild that I am, I graciously and lovingly obliged.

Being as it was early in the morning.. (at least for me) I was not at my best. I was tired, grouchy and annoyed at having to pretend to be humane. Of course I get something out of it, that's the point. But still, I've never been fond of those necessary inconveniences of daily life. I grew to understand the necessity of blending in at a young age, but that doesn't mean I've always been perfect. I still am not.

And early in the morning, grouchy and annoyed, is generally when I am at my least tolerant. So when my Gran prattled on about my apparent 'tiredness' (which was caused by her) and told me to be careful seeing as how
"It would kill you inside if you accidentally hurt someone, let alone yourself."
I let slip, " Only if I hurt myself", ha

Why would I care if someone else got hurt in an accident? I mean, of course it wouldn't be ideal, I'd rather not have to deal with insurance companies or replace my car, or pay someone else's hospital bill (if it was my fault). But no doubt it would be substantially, if not completely someone else's fault as well. If some moron swerves into my lane and hits me head on, I could care less what happens to them. Why should I?

That being said, now in the middle of the day I'm knackered. I have far too much free time this summer, not enough human interaction means a limited pool of fishies to play with. Which reminds me, the Cat is by far my favorite domesticated pet, hands (paws?) down. They are conceited and aloof. The narcissists of the animal world. They use me just for what I can give them, 'affection', and once they are satisfied, they leave. Only to return when they want something again. They are one creature I can entirely understand.

I once had an absolutely wicked Cat with a stupid name like Sprinkle. It is still to this day, my favorite animal my family has ever had. It would go to different family members as they were laying down to bed, and just watch them. It'd just sit there, with those dark beady eyes, and as the night wore on those eyes would dilate with malevolent intent. Out of reach of wandering hands, it would sit there quietly, tail twitching as if hunting a worthy prey. And seemingly just as you'd enter into the land of dreams, something would shock your body to awakeness. You'd open your eyes gasping for breath, and that damned cat would be staring down at you with those dilated, glossy eyes; its paws outstretched pressing all its (albeit light) weight, into your fragile throat. Usually, conveniently, right over your carotid.

Good times. I used to call her the "Cat Strangler', and had many a plans involving blaming some opportunistic bed-time homicides on her evil feline self. Alas, now she's dead. I was fond of that cat, although no longer having to feed it was nice, so all in all it was a fair trade.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Well, today was absolutely dull, but then again, so is everyday. Few things in life give me any type of real excitement, which is why I seek out those few things ruthlessly. I find violence absolutely beautiful, and it is late in the night and that will have to account for my flowery prose atm. That's actually why I'm going to med school; the sight of mangled, brutalized Beings gives me the 'giggles' so to speak. Did I mention I'm sadistic?

I imagine the motivation behind my career choice would bother some people.. but I don't see why. Who cares why people do what they do, when either way it helps society? People are so.. so.. emotional. Everything they do has to have some kind of emotional connotation. Social norms absolutely baffle me.

Take this example for instance; a guy gets in a car accident with his two kids in the car. They die, he survives. He looks like he feels shitty, someone says
"Aww, don't blame yourself'.
He says "Umm, I don't. Wasn't my fault, why would I think that?"

You'd think, she'd say "oh that's good", but nooo, now he's an asshole BECAUSE he's not blaming himself. The intricacies of these kinds of social interactions have taken me ages to grasp. But as they say you often know What before you know Why. For instance, humans knew that when they put their hand in fire their hand automatically shot away, long before we knew anything of nerve endings and reflexes.

Of course I'm ranting. Hopefully over time I get better at staying on topic, although I'm not sure exactly what that topic is... Perhaps I should hire someone to give me prompts. They'd have to be good though... "Would you rather use a 4m butterknife knife, or a 3 oz , 6 ft long plastic bat as a murder weapon? Why?"
Now there's a prompt. Maybe I'll actually answer that later

'The lion eats tonight...'

I'm somewhat puzzled by my own decision to start a blog. I've never been one to keep a journal or write my 'feelings' down, mostly because self-Incrimination is the first I in idiot (the second I being Incompetent). As rash and impulsive as I was in my prepubescent and early adolescent years, even then I knew something about me was different. I was bright enough to know I wasn't normal; normal kids didn't enjoy the same... activities I myself did. And most 'normal' kids didn't have the same childhood as me either. Although honestly I find it a bit obnoxious to complain about your family life. Just about everyone hates their particular lot, but annoyingly, there's always someone who's had it worse. It always amuses me how people seem to want to compete.
"MY life's the worst!"
As if being miserable comes with some unspoken popularity beyond rational comprehension. Why is unhappiness so fucking interesting to the well off? As far as I'm told happiness is supposed to be a... good emotion. It's supposedly pleasant to experience, and although I do feel a sort of happiness, namely when I'm inflicting, receiving, or viewing pain, I know it can't compare to the real thing. Or so they say.

Honestly though, as much as I may allude, I truly believe emotion to be a frivolous human accessory. And by emotion, I mean most specifically petty, selfish emotions like empathy, sadness and fear. What is the gain in 'putting yourself in someone else's shoes'? How utterly, unnatural. Does a lion empathize with a gazelle right before it sinks its 30 razor-sharp fangs into its unsuspecting neck? I hope not.
And for the record, if you're ever face-to-face with a sociopath, that is the exact scenario you should keep fresh in your mind. It's completely baffling to me, the number of people who KNOW they are dealing with a sociopath, yet they don't get away. Morons. They feel they have some kind of, ability or power to 'change' them. You can no more 'save' a sociopath than talk a lion out of having you for lunch.
That being said, I absolutely 'love' those people. The nurturers of the world who don't realize, they're not everyone's mummy.

Monday, June 28, 2010


Every day has its own individual challenges. For some people those challenges may involve doing good in school, getting promoted at work or even just simply putting food on the table. For me it's keeping those around me from knowing the truth. I don't care about anything. Every other word that comes out of my mouth is a lie, my 'feelings' my likes and dislikes. All of it is bullshit. I'm smart, funny, outgoing. I have many friends, my family is proud of the person I am becoming. And it's all crap. Every day I get up and pretend to be someone I'm not, and I know there are thousands of people out there (I know I'm under-exaggerating) who do it too. Hell, even Empaths (non-sociopaths) lie about who they are, but to a much smaller extent.

Sometimes I can look someone in the eye, and know for a fact they're just like me. I can watch them sit there and spew out, verbatim, exactly what they think a normal person would say. And it's perfect too, just the right combination of frivolous emotion with a dash of that charming lack of self esteem Empaths always possess. But somehow there's just this.. disconnect. Like, a gaydar for the Unemotional, perish the thought. Sociodar... Psychodar... Emtpinessdar? Something foolish sounding like that.

But anyways, that's all for me today, I have to go pretend to cry about a family member dying. That's not to say I'm not.. upset-- in my own way. My way of 'grieving' is just much more shallow and short-lived, that's all. I don't really understand the emotion that surrounds these sorts of things; People die and it's like all the sudden family members who disowned and refused to talk to them for the past 10 years are all the sudden devastated at the loss. Why pretend? It's as if NOT showing some sort of sadness isn't socially acceptable, whether you 'feel' it or not. I'll never understand the way humans interact.

it's so... sloppy.

The first of many Rants to come

Today it seems will be another continuation of an endless string of dull, uneventful days. I have much work to do and of course, no motivation to do it. It will get done eventually of course, my enormous ego will make sure of that. Without it I I have no doubt I would be lost. I find that somewhat funny, that my ego is the sole motivation for my seeming 'ambition'. That my superiority complex gets me up at 4 in the morning and puts me to bed at 9 o'clock. As I've previously attested I have many 'friends', more like acquaintances, but they don't all know that. From many different 'groups' too, which for me adds a variety to my life I wouldn't otherwise have. How can you possibly relate to so many different 'groups'? Well, you just create several different identities. The studious student, the Hard Worker, the Rebel, the beloved Family Member, the Cruel Rageful person few know, and the Loving Peaceful person people think they know.

I'm quick to anger and absolutely remorseless. If the people around me truly knew the things that raged inside my head they would get the fuck away from me as quickly as conceivably possible. But alas, they do not, and something about that gives me a little thrill. A lone wolf surrounded by sheep. Although I must admit, I have met some truly devilishly delightful people, who like me, feel no guilt and who, like me have that deadly violence swimming around in their heads. It thrills me to meet, or see, or hear about anyone remotely like me. The Ted Bundys and the Jeff Dahmer's of the world do nothing more than fascinate me.

I could listen to Bundy speak for hours. Everything that ever came out of his mouth was utter bullshit, sans one time, and I fucking love it. He was a master of his craft, and I don't mean killing. One time that I recall however, he spoke the truth, and his words summed this 'condition' up beautifully. He said, "I'm the most cold hearted son of a bitch you'll ever meet' (Or was it cold blooded? I can never remember). A better summary of this so-called 'disorder' has never been spoken (Well, perhaps it has but I am partial to hyperbole).

Men and women with that heavily sought after Silver Tongue have always held as much admiration as I'm capable of. In school being taught of the Holocaust and WWII was always the highlight of my year. I wanted to hear Hitler's speeches, absorb his ideologies, not for some idiotic belief in his 'cause', but to sit there in awe of how one man could cow an entire nation! It's fucking brilliant.

But now that I've got myself caught up in a bit of a rant I'll end this here. There are few things in this world I enjoy more than 'hearing' myself 'talk' so to speak. Why else would anyone start a Blog? Since normally I must keep my profound (and justified) arrogance to myself, and play the meek and humble little rabbit, it's nice to have an outlet. Although today I admit it has reached a fever pitch. Thoughts of the Holocaust always get my world domination fantasies going..

So It Begins...

So it begins. A delightful adventure through the eerie mind of a confessed Sociopath. Some days will be dull to the extreme and others quite the opposite. I admit, this is a completely selfish endeavor, few things give me greater pleasure than the opportunity to talk about myself; the things *I* like, who *I* really am. Unfortunately however, I rarely get the chance. Every day I wear a mask. Somedays or with some people that mask may change. I may need to create a new one or pull one of my many to the forefront at any given time, but there is always a mask just the same.

I am paranoid and secretive, I have few fears, a superiority complex and a burning desire for success. My ego motivates me in everything that I do, I began to realize years ago that were it not for my enormous ego, I would nary be as 'ambitious' as I'm thought to be. Of course to the outside world I'm a perfectly humble little bee; appropriately modest and respectful of my 'limitations'.

I often refer to 'normal' people as either Empaths or Humans (or Morons or Idiots on occasion). Not because I see myself as some kind of.. alien or somesuch nonsense, but because as hard as I may try to pretend, I'm as far removed from 'humanity' as can be.

Inside my mind lies a tempest of violence and perversion; I'm not hindered by frivolous Human qualities like Empathy or conscience. That however, does not mean I prance around raping babies for fun. It just means well.. now I can't think past the image of 'prancing' around raping babies (RIP Michael J). But I digress

More at a Later time
like.. maybe 5 minutes?