Rust

rust

I maintain that my current trajectory in life is not one of redemption.  Redemption would imply that I have atoned for my sins of the past and am immune from their temptations in the future.  My latent state will always be antisocial; that is what I am at the atomic level.  But, as with chemistry, different arrangements of atoms result in different properties even if the atom, at its core, is of property ‘X’.  No, my current trajectory is one of reprogramming.  My unquiet mind will always be distraught with the internal monologue detailing the differences between the conscious and subconscious as well as the intentional versus the automatic.  No matter how much I want to know whether I am conscious in my desires to be a better person these days, I must concede that there are certain mechanisms that are beyond my control.  I am a subject of my own psychological experiment.  As I consciously strive toward prosocial behaviors, my subconscious begins to morph.  As the subconscious evolves, its call overwhelms the conscious mind.  I am left with a Mobius Strip of a person, with no clear beginning or end.  For a being without identity, this is especially distressing and terrifying.  At some point, I have to let go.  At some point, I have to concede that there is very real reprogramming that was once under my control but is no longer.

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Ghosts

ghost

I know that I’m repeating myself, but it has been awhile.  Whatever remnants of my antisocial spectrum disorders continue to fade as I grow older and the line between conscious and subconscious restraint blurs.

I’ve been thinking about the nature of my failed interpersonal relationships.  I tend to go nuclear, causing a certain finality to occur, rather than ghosting.  I suppose that it would be healthier to simply vanish rather than viciously ending those interpersonal relationships that I find irritating or otherwise unfulfilling, but no matter how many times I remind myself of this fact, I still detonate.  I don’t have any answer for this self-inflicted problem.  I know that many under the antisocial spectrum – especially those with comorbid Borderline Personality Disorder – act as I do.

For those of you that are more graceful with severing interpersonal relationships, please share your techniques in doing so if you once acted as I did, or if your natural proclivity is to explode as I do.

I will probably not be updating regularly, but it may be possible to write briefer, more frequent posts, since I have said nearly everything there is to say regarding the antisocial condition.  I don’t wish to waste my time nor my readers’ time.  If you are curious about those projects that I still engage in, in other areas, please feel free to reach out to me.  I wear many hats and this blog is merely one outlet for my creativity and drive.  However, I am not going to muddy the waters; this blog is for my writing, not my other endeavors.  At thirty-one years of age, I am hopeful that my antisocial ghosts will only haunt me in mind and not in action.  In as much, I myself have become a ghost as well, merely haunting my old arenas and letting the words of the past remain steadfast in their aegis.

…And Her Mouth was Sewn Shut

needle_and_thread

I dislike self-diagnosing individuals. There is little to gain when embarking on a dangerous journey without a guide.  However, I hate even more those laypeople that diagnose others with personality disorders.  Often, such people are trying to equate their disdain for an individual with a viable and biological or environmental explanation.  They cannot accept that others may be defective individuals on their own.  And, ultimately, they deny the darkness that lives within each and every human being – most importantly, the darkness that lives within themselves.  How many times have we heard that Donald Trump is a narcissist and Hilary Clinton a psychopath?  How many people that know better are spreading such potential misinformation based on their own ignorance and prejudices?  We must reject such banter.  We must sew their mouths shut.

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The Line Between Freedom and Atimia

It’s been a while.  I want to touch on a subject that I’ve mentioned briefly from time to time.  By now, many of you are aware of the murders by a possibly mentally ill man in Florida in which the murderer beat his victims to death and then started biting off the flesh of the face of one of the victims.  So far, tests for illicit drugs have come back negative and the possibility of a mental “break” cannot be dismissed.  The etiology of his bizarre behavior does not particularly concern me.  However, if this is a case of mental illness, it resurrects the debate of the rights of the afflicted as contrasted with those that are “unafflicted” (or afflicted differently, at least).  My position has solidified over the years, and I find that the only “fair” choice is for those that are being harmed to have safety from those that are doing harm or have done harm.  Society does not need to justify a fair desire to remain safe.  Is it possible that medication could help in similar circumstances with others that are mentally ill and violent?  Sure.  Should society have to take that risk when one has shown violence?  No.  Sometimes bad things happen that are irredeemable.  Realization and restraint may come, but if one has shown that they are poisonous, no one has to take their word – or the word of anyone else – as sacrosanct and above those unalienable rights to safety that we all should enjoy.

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Realization

These are strange times.  My intellectual grasp of the interconnectedness of the world is at peak form even if I do not hold an emotional state toward others living on this earth.  Cognitively, I realize that every action I take affects someone else in some fashion and that every action another takes may affect me.  In this sense, the grand dance that is life is slowly being revealed to me.  What will eventually come my way from such a focus on the intertwined nature of life is yet to be seen.  I do not believe in karma, but I do believe that if one seeks to be part of the world, they must respect the world.  By respect, I mean that the individual must realize that others have their own unique positions in life and that they exist separate from the observer’s point of view.  There are times in which my selfishness and callousness shines through, but by and large, I am morphing into a new being.  This is no accident.  Months and years of meditating upon my place in the world have brought me to this point and a lesser mind certainly would not reach the same conclusions that I have.  These are strange times indeed.

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