If I go to the well frequently enough, I must dip my bucket further into the shaft to alleviate my thirst. This is my relationship with the macabre. I am convinced that the overwhelming majority of psychopaths have bloodlust even if they may not act on them – and, hopefully, they do not. I am no different. However, I do not fear crossing the line into battery or worse. I fear being paralyzed by these unwanted and intrusive thoughts. In order to quiet my mind – and engage in a bit of pleasure seeking behavior – I seek out the macabre at every chance that I can. Am I doing more damage than good, however?
My convictions are selfish in nature. Most issues of social justice and tolerance are of no importance to me. Where I am incongruent to progressive thoughts of egalitarianism, I lose no sleep. I am biased and bigoted in my own fashion, as is every other human being on this earth. I am susceptible to change and realignment, however – just not in the manner that most progressives undertake when changing their own held values and bigotries.
It’s been a while since I’ve written. I do not waste my readers’ time with ramblings that are not directed and I do not waste my time if I have nothing to say. I thought that maybe some time off would help my psyche; can it really be good to be surrounded in darkness at all times? I wanted to see if I could unwind the intricate and interweaved relationship between “me” and my psychopathy. I wanted to test the waters of trying to live in that state of ignorance once more. I thought about what it would be like to no longer be “pg”. And, I’ve come to realize that the condition and myself are permanently linked, just as they always were, even before it had a name.
My therapist and I had a lengthy discussion about morality this evening. I’ve been struggling the past few days with knowing where I lie on such a spectrum ranging from ‘pure good’ to ‘pure evil’ after confessing some particularly damning thoughts to her. I’m an ardent intellectual and the knowledge that I could not separate the expectations of society and other pressures from my own internal view of self – which is weak, of course – bothered me quite heavily. Did I care where I lay on the spectrum? Did I not care? Was it better to know or not know? etc. etc.
At what point do we cross the boundary that society has set for us? More importantly, at what point do we cross the line between ‘okay’ and ‘not okay’ that we police ourselves with? Do we know when we are on the wrong side of it, or does it sneak up on us? These are all questions that I’m struggling with after a particularly thought-provoking therapy session this evening. I thought I had a bead on my own alignment. Am I just lying to myself instead?