More Stress

A Cautionary Note: This post was written more intoxicated than usual and therefor, may make less than full sense. I will edit it at a more sober time. 

I'm almost positive I've made a post about stress before, but oh well. This is on my mind now. There are two kinds of stress to me; stress I thrive in and stress I dissolve in.

Most stressful situations I find exhilarating, but right now, the shit I'm dealing with now, is attempting to pry the masks from my face. I am a somewhat obsessive person by nature, once I get an itch it must be scratched. I cannot stand when everything I've ever worked for is up for grabs, liable to slip through my fingers if I let it. It enrages me to think all the work I've put in, all the lying, finagling and pretending could result to nothing more than if I would've been smoking dope and flaying whores for the past months.

It feels as if, ever since I could walk I have been constantly striving for success. It feels that way because it's true. I was never a child, I was born thirty and from the moment my synapses began firing I knew what I had to do. What I had to sacrifice in order to be a success- not to please anyone, not to be a contributing member of society but because I need power and influence like I need to breathe, like I need to hunt in the night-that's just always been a fact.

It is irritating, that I have this need, or rather, these 'needs' -to be this person.  There are so many other ways I could live, that would be preferable in many ways, but that's not enough for me. I'm not saying I need to be the next President of the Universe or anything so grand as a dictator, but I do need to dwell in the upper echelons of society, my ego demands it.

And when your life is so empty of anything but this one need (Okay, maybe two), any kind of setback is massive in your psyche. I have nothing to love, nothing to care about, nothing to focus all of my destructive energy on but the accomplishment of this goal. That thought is simply eerie.

It sounds dramatic to say that these goals are the only thing between me and my other need, between me and prison, but unfortunately this is the case. Perhaps that is why I developed such an obsession in the first place, a defense mechanism, a distraction from myself. Who knows. All I do know is that it is one or the other. There is no way I can control myself if I do not have this buffer- this diversion of my darker focus.

And this is not to say that I am in any way 'giving up'. Such a concept is not even fathomable to me. There is no danger of me quitting, only of me losing myself along the way. Of focusing so entirely on this goal that my mask slips and hellfire creeps around the edges and darkness oozes out of my eyes until the only thing that could stop me is The Chair- and by then it will be too late.

Psychopaths are naturally at an advantage in many ways- but all of that is evened out by one glaring flaw. The utter apathy of our existence makes it difficult to accomplish goals in the long term. Life is so boring sometimes I question the difference between life and death.

People can not fathom why I do not fear death. That the idea of a natural disaster or brutal attack does not leave me with apprehension or anxiety. Besides the fact that we will all die eventually- the thought of death brings a certain level of relaxation. Just the idea of no more pretending, no more working, no more striving- is blissfully pleasant. This does not mean I intend to carve the arteries out of my throat, but rather, that should death look me in the face I will not tremble, but rejoice. And if it does not, I will go on, just as I am.

I do not feel loss or desolation at failure. I feel an intense burning frustration that fuels the fires of my obsession. The problem comes when this fire becomes too hot to hide behind a facade of innocuous normalcy. I can only hope I am capable of keeping the flames of insanity at bay.

An Interlude Into My Life

Sometimes I wonder at what is considered important to the masses. Of all the traits that make people differ from each other, few even register in my mind. So many frivolous things dwelt upon; gender, race, religion. I could care less.

I don't care about what a person projects to the world, I want to see their insides. I want to see what makes their heart race, what floods ice through their veins, what makes them quake in fear and jump for joy. Like a surgeon of the mind I want to dissect and probe them like no one has done before, and I want to do it quickly, flawlessly and subtly. That's all I really want to do.

It sounds strange, a bit far-fetched- and it is. To understand the motivation you'd have to experience life completely inside your mind for awhile. Imagine being an actor in a scene that never ends. What would you do to pass the time? What recreation could you have but to peer behind the eyes of your fellow actors?

Everyone has their little quirks. Some people collect buttons or figurines or pennies and the like. I collect observations. I look at a person and paint a picture over time. The juxtaposition of who a person is versus who they pretend to be can be grand or miniscule, but still interesting just the same.

Through the eyes of someone else like me I must be fascinating indeed. So contradictory, paradoxical. I have no identity and therefore just like water I am shapeless, moulded to fit my surroundings. I hate to be dramatic but it's true.

My daily interactions are a curious mixture of ad-libbing and careful fore-planning. I have periodic 'meetings' with myself where I analyze the direction of my current personality(s) and decide if changes should be made. From adolescence to now, countless drastic alterations have been made, as well as many many smaller changes.

I suppose I began doing this when I was fairly young. It was a result of the realization that human beings were linear functions. I noticed that while others appeared to be changing, one might say 'maturing', I was no different than I had been for years. It was a puzzling discovery.

There is no guidance for people like me. No relatable 'adult' figure that teaches you how to pretend to be human. That's all up to you, and it can be a difficult transition to make.

Late elementary school is when I noticed the shift normal humans start to make. They become less authentic and more main stream. Being accepted by the masses becomes more important-- not that their weren't little social groups before, but at this point it enters a whole new level. Now all the sudden it's important to be 'cool' and 'fit in' and anyone who doesn't is punished brutally through physical and psychological harassment.

This was also a huge transition for me. I had to make several decisions consciously that Normals make subconsciously. What path should I take now? What kind of 'group' would it be to my advantage to cling to? I wasn't sure.

So I dabbled. In a short period of time I tested out everything from being a 'prep' to a 'loner' and found that while I could pull anything off, it seemed more logical to choose the kind of people closest to my purest form. The less acting I'd have to deal with, the better.

Junior High was also when I experienced the most difficulty with my impulsiveness. I had always been violent, but in my formative years I lived surrounded by people like me. Guiltless, aggressive predators who could care less if I spent my free time kicking puppies or getting into fights-if anything it was encouraged. Now all the sudden I'm thrust into a structured environment with normal people who control themselves and color inside the lines and now I had to figure out a way to emulate that. I was largely unsuccessful, for a time.

And then I started 'growing' thought wise. I had always been extremely introspective but around this time is when I started utilizing that aspect of myself in a more intelligent way. I began to internalize my violent tendencies and create a stronger facade less prone to cracks.

I still struggle with my impulses but then again, I'm still young. Every year I gain more control, more awareness and insightfulness.

I know I usually write in a more upbeat, sarcastic tone but today I thought I'd share a bit more. This blog to me is like a parody of my life and how the world views sociopathy. Sharing a more grandiose, narcissistic side of myself is infinitely entertaining and that's ultimately the only thing I find important. Life is a dull blade, sharpen it anyway you can.

Ding Dong the Witch Isn't Dead

Hello again.

I'm thrilled to touch base a bit after such an admittedly long hiatus. Unfortunately, life comes banging at my door more often than I'd wish. To put it plainly, I've been busy. Have I had time to post? Most definitely, but after completing piles of work I could care less about my weekly introspection.

And that is, what this is. Simply a medium for me to think through and track my thoughts over time. Currently, I am ridiculously stressed and not just a little irritated at that fact. The more irritated and impatient I get, the less effective I get at maintaining an appropriate camouflage.

I am naturally an extremely impulsive person. I act with caution and tact purely through strength of will. Everyday I get better at controlling certain tendencies, but still I'm not yet where I want to be.

It's funny because 'inside' is much more chaotic than I show. It is an interesting paradox because inside my head I am positively insane but 'outside' my head I am perfectly normal (when need be).

This brings me to another topic I'm not sure I've touched on here; alter egos (for the lack of a better term). I myself am a bit disjointed. There are two people in my head and they both think differently. One controls my thoughts and the other, my actions.

I consider myself 'the gatekeeper' as in, I connect my own 'identity' more with the person who controls my actions. The one who controls my thoughts tries to sway me one way or the other, but ultimately I decide who's argument has the most merit.

It sounds a bit crazy, talking to your own various 'alter egos' but in reality, insanity is only characterized by your actions. Having voices in your head doesn't make you crazy, following their will in a public setting leading to incarceration does.