I must have control. Often, my desires for control lead me to playing things quite safely. It is not that I am afraid of risk; I merely prefer to hold all of the cards and to know my opponent’s hand before committing to anything. I want to know that I will be the victor and overwhelmingly so.
I need control. When I am not in control, I lash out like a small child. I turn to nefarious means in order to regain control. In the worst case scenario, if I cannot have control, no one will. In the best case, I will have set the tempo to the dance they think that they can perform on their own.
I obsess over control. My schemes require the utmost planning to make sure that I am holding the strings for my marionettes. The right time and place for a perfect lie or revelation of blackmail are calculated and recalculated to an unhealthy degree. I quickly lose sight of my endgame because I get so wrapped up in controlling the present. I forget the role that my playthings have in my master plan as I ensure that they are in the place and position that I decree.
Ultimately, I cannot always have control. There are forces that counteract our every move and thought. Some of these forces can be eliminated – such as the friend begging me to find conscience – and some of these cannot, such as the cop that pulls me over for driving “recklessly” through her precious little town.
What distresses me most is when I must rely on luck to reach the endgame that I have envisioned. My marionettes should not have movements that I do not create by my own hands. Sometimes, they move to their own music – however. Even the sociopath must rely, at times, on the actions of others. All I can hope is that my influences to that point have made it clear that there is only one acceptable way in which they can dance.