The psychopath, should she have goals, finds that many of her goals never come to fruition. In line with her self-grandiosity, many goals made are simply unattainable by anyone with such a position in life. In Kent Kiehl’s The Psychopath Whisperer, for instance, we hear of the assassin of James Garfield, Charles Guiteau had “plans” to become an ambassador to foreign countries as well has a strong desire to marry rich. The fact that he had little worth in life, was disbarred as a lawyer in one state, and was an unfocused mess did not deter him from trying, although his plans never reached maturity.
It is also common for the psychopath simply to lack long-term goals. This more closely resembles my own life experience. I drift from residence to residence, never settling down or even imagining what it could be like to settle down, start a family, plan a career, or any number of “goals” that the neurotypical seeks day in and day out. I am a nomad in more than the literal sense of the word. The first goals I can ever remember truly setting for myself are quite recent and may or may not be realistic. I want to create further discourse on ASPD and psychopathy if only to understand myself better. Whether one person, a psychopath at that, can do that is uncertain at this point.
At every step of my life, I simply drift based on the wind patterns and currents of life. I only applied to two colleges. I did not care which accepted me. I chose a major simply because I could tolerate it. I thought about graduate school and then decided to abandon it when I considered it too difficult for my then life-plan. I picked the first job that was offered to me. The idea of a satisfying career eludes me and I have no idea where I want to end up in life, much less how to get there. I have no road map nor am I willing to create one.
Returning to my desire to create discourse, it is quite possible that my self-grandiosity is leading me down a path that has no end. I wrote a manuscript on the condition because I was bored. I want to see it published, but being realistic, most writers never have any major works published. My only goal in this life is one that is most likely unattainable yet somehow it feels to me that I deserve it. The intellectual and educated person within me knows that there is a disconnect here, but the narcissist within me demands no less. It’s a mess.
I suspect that I will forever be a drifter, unable to articulate, define, or see the goals that I do make. I am a leaf, walking the wind as my soul drifts from endeavor to endeavor – never able to connect the dots and never able to think in terms of the abilities that I actually have. Any accomplishment in this life will be due to chance, not the true desires and abilities of a megalomaniac.