The Price to Pay

I cannot speak for all sociopaths, not that I would want to anyway, but I know that my latent state makes meaningful human interaction and companionship quite difficult.  How can I truly become close to someone if I am always running, and rerunning, the calculus regarding their benefit with respect to my energy expenditure?  How can I form connections when something as vital to humanity as empathy is missing from my person?  As I mentioned in another post, I was once married.  Even that was of utility rather than love.  All of my interactions are selfish.  If there is not immediate benefit, I will not be around for long.

My friends, of which there are few, recognize these things about me and accept me anyway.  I do appreciate that of them.  However, I am always left with the nagging thought that there is some invisible wall between us.  I can see them and interact with them, but I can never “touch” them and vice-versa.  My inability to have genuine interest in others’ and my lack of empathy means that even my closest interactions are reduced to a parody of what many neurotypicals experience with their interpersonal relationships.

I won’t say that I lose sleep over being in such a bubble, but it is a uncomfortable realization nonetheless.  I experience the condition in terms of absolutes: infinite potential and infinite restriction.  I, ultimately, am the sole force in my success and failure as I do not consider the needs of others, except as necessary to ensure my own goals.  However, my worldview and mental wiring suggests that I will never be able to connect with others, especially neurotypicals, on anything but the most superficial of levels.  Such is the price I must pay for a condition that I never asked for.

In many ways, such realizations make up much of the condition for me.  My constant need for anything worth doing and experiencing leads to a realization that I will never be satisfied with anything in life.  My inability to truly bond with others means that I will always have far more acquaintances than friends.  Everything is muted except for the knowledge that my proclivities allow me to succeed where others fail.  Without satisfaction, such knowledge is wasted for myself even though it is impregnable from attack by others.

Moths Drawn to Flame
Shattered

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