January 10 ,2014

Writing Style Attempt: This is something that I wrote about a month ago- and I spent two hours today editing. I will provide the edited parts tomorrow. I would like to point out (to myself) that I wrote for an hour today, I just didn't necessarily write something 'new'. I like the idea of this piece and I have more in this vein, but they need even more wok than this one. p.s. Part of this piece for me was that I couldn't over analyze it - so it's full of terrible grammar and such (much to my dismay)

Psychopath, Sociopath, or an Introvert in Extrovert’s Clothing?

One of the lessons learned upon my enthusiastic separation from my childhood home is that I am far beyond a selfless person. I am the Sun and therefore expect every person place or thing in my life to position itself eagerly into orbit around me. I am not though, necessarily pompous in nature. In fact, I never assume anyone will volunteer themselves to a path that centers around or straight to me. Instead I assume I will have few close relationships in life and spend time psyching myself up in preparation of dying alone but in a cruel plot twist, I was born into a family of 8, with an unfortunate talent for relating to people who loves to tell stories (about me). So in fact, I have to spend a lot of my time learning how to live amongst instead o without. Some days, I test myself to see if I have the possibility of being a psychopath, it never truly works out as such-which is quite disappointing because then, at least I could give reason when faced with difficult situations.

I imagine putting an end to an arduous conversation at a bar I have decided to attend on my own. When chatted up and then am requested for further contact I could say, “In honesty, I am just passing the time here and, as a human with a slightly psychopathic nature am quite deceptive to the average person. In truth, I have no true connection with you and once I exit this establishment, I will never think of you again-unless you end up providing me with material anecdotally in the future.” The problem is, although I do feel exactly that way many times, I get caught up in caring about what the person I’ve been speaking to for the past hour cares about me. So, I recite the dismissal in my head and either come up with a lie or oblige, which is a lie in itself.

I do wish though, that I could just be clear and not worry so much about hurting the other person’s feelings. I would definitely have helped that time I agreed to go on a handful of dates with the boy in college then didn’t go to see him in the hospital when he got stabbed by one of his tenants. He got really upset about that, and it had already been far too late to tell him it really meant nothing to me.

I’d dare to say my mother and father would attest that I wasn’t always this way; inwardly cold with the ability to be outwardly warm; but I also feel like that proves my point further. What does anyone truly know about another person when they are always pretending? I look back to my dealings with childhood items such as my dolls. The stories I told through tiny plastic bodies were disturbingly sexual and all of the relationships detached yet highly entertaining. My lack of interest in group activities. Sports? Why? Presentation groups? Sure, I’ll go to the meetings, but will I let anyone in on what I am going to do? Ha. Comments by teachers about my stubbornness and natural leadership, “Command of the room” and vividly startling imagination were code for “She needs to relax and give others a fucking chance!”

I’m not completely composed of tough meat and sour thoughts – this is another reason I can tell you truthfully that I am not of true psychopathic nature – my one weakness is love. When I find someone I want to experience that emotion with, I go all the way and never take a moment to breathe. It’s entirely too extreme at times which has provided its own saga of struggles on my end, but it is actually an honest connection with someone besides my own self.

Another point that seems to hip check my descent into psychopathy is that I get really sad or certainly passionate about things not related to me. (Although, I can relate anything I care about to me because - I care about it - which to me means I have or currently am dealing with an aspect of the subject somewhere in my own life) Some examples:

A) Disheartening News Headlines:

i. Child dies of cancer b/c parents are poor

ii. Relationship Murder Suicides

iii. Woma(e)n Oppressed and Marginalized

iv. Animals Found Mistreated or Used in Some Sick Fetishist Way

v. Political Leader believes there is Only One Way to Live Life Properly and Therefore Will Do His/Her Damndest to Make Sure that Happens

vi. Children Shooting Children

B) Art:

i. A really good introspective film. (See Godard, P.T. Anderson, Carruth)

ii. A really good visual film. (See above, add Malick, Wes Anderson)

iii. A well written Play Or Film Or Book (Too many to list)

iv. Truly Excellent Museums

v. Large canyons

vi. Music (It’s relative yet somehow incredibly specific and telling)

vii. High caliber Haunted Houses

C) Relationships:

i. Being committed to wholly without need for reciprocation

ii. Caring about my wellbeing without comparing it to others.

Some things that I question that make me feel as though I am not a sane member of society:

A) Babies

B) Pets that aren’t mine.

C) Natural Disasters (It’s not our fault…so…)

D) Pop Music (No feels there. No feels at all)

E) Lack of connection or care for extended family (there are exceptions)

F) Musicals. (This is a hard one because I used to be in musicals. Like, semi-professionally in musicals)

The last point brings me into the major flaw in my need to associate with disassociation. Musicals make no sense to me culturally. Zero percent. Why do we even try? But because I have a history with them, I have nostalgic feelings as well. Feelings that a sociopath would most definitely not have. The catch is, I have nostalgic feelings about an art form that I feel so far removed from emotionally that I have deemed it unfit for my own consumption. I hate Musicals because I failed at being in them. I feel indifferent towards babies and second cousins because the person I was when they were important in my life, no longer exists. I choose to be distant because I literally moved myself far away from anything I didn’t connect with. I want to be a sociopath because I want an excuse.

And an interesting story.

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 -barf

 

mishelle