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.
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.
6 comments:
This is hands down my favorite blog post from you thus far. I can sense the frustration behind the words, and know them too well myself. I know this struggle, because it is my struggle too.
Best of luck. I'm not much of a fan of dope or whores, but we all have our vices to distract our minds :)
Hello ZKM,
I regret I haven't had time to stop by sooner. I'm glad I finally did.
Like Notable, I too can relate a great deal to everything you've said in this article.
Your statement:
"...sometimes I question the difference between life and death."
In a sense there is no difference. Or rather, the two are like the old two sides of a coin.
In every death is creation, and vice vice versa.
So you know about the night hunt syndrome too, eh? I figured as much! ;)
"Should face look me in the face I will not tremble, but rejoice."
I think you'll find that there's more to it than that. It also depends on what kind of death looks at you.
But there's more... I can see you've had a setback when you wrote this. And you've done well even so (did you see my article... well, "short" story named 'Brave New Disordered World'? It was written under intoxication. And I'm not proud. But it needs to stay for now).
I know your frustration, ZK, I've gone through it often enough, especially when I was younger it would get so close to destroying me altogether - or so I felt.
You're still young, and there're good lessons for people like us. But we must be willing to go the extra mile that everybody else speaks about but never walk.
Don't worry, things can be good. I should know! Remember when you're facing the deepest frustrations, that is where the answers to do better can be found.
I know you know this, but sometimes it's good to hear someone else saying it anyway.
Can I ask you two questions?...
1.: What does ZKM stand for?
2.: Are you female?
2.3 and a half: How do you define yourself as a Sociopath?
If you chose to answer, thank you in advance!... '^L^,
1. Zelotes Kathegetes Malista
translated loosely; Zealous Master Most of all. I did not give it to myself, it stems from a boring childhood story.
2. I speak often as either male or female, not through any kind of fear but as a result of my taste for ambiguity. Most often I do not claim a gender, I do not wish to taint conversation with trivial stereotypes. Empaths especially, must speak within a box. If I am a man I must be masculine, chauvinistic, aggressive. If I am female I must be, if not feminine, promiscuous and sexually manipulative. How boring.
3. What a possibly long, or very short answer. There are a few different things you could be asking with the same words. I do not wish to answer incorrectly. Do you want me to state how I place on the checklist?
Some time we should talk about hunting in the night. I have a few theories on it myself.
Theories as to its origin? As to where the need stems from and why it is so satisfying?
There are many very intellectualized rationalizations for it, but often when I hear them I feel like an empath must when I try to explain an emotion. I can explain the concept of empathy and even regurgitate several descriptions of the feeling, but it will always be like a foreigner learning a new language. I can become very fluent but there will always be an accent.
With this particular topic, even in my own writing, I walk a knife's edge. It is very much a part of my motivations, but cannot be a large part of this blog-for obvious reasons.
There are few posts where I am completely honest. This is one of them.
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