Event Horizon

“Don’t take your mask off for too long,” they said.  “You’ll never be able to put it back on,” they warned.  I dismissed such advice as being too restrictive for a psychopath trying to maintain her good standing in the world.  You know what, though?  They were right.  I’ve passed my event horizon and now there is nothing I can do to appear as I once was.

The mask I refer to is one of empathy and care.  There was a time in my life in which I could fein affective empathy and care toward another person.  There was a time in which I would smile and nod and affirm what another person in front of me was saying.  There was a time in which others thought that, while potentially aloof, I genuinely cared about them as human beings.  That time is no more.

I think about my current status in life – of which I want no pity as I brought this solely upon myself – of being friendless and companionless.  Of the people I meet, 99% are vapid and unworthy of my time.  0.9% are interesting but demand a level of sincerity that I can no longer fein.  The one in one thousand that demands neither my “love” and is interesting in and of themselves are nowhere to be found.  At one point my inner sanctum was composed of the one in one hundred, now my inner sanctum is completely vacant.

I brought this upon myself.  The price of transparency is to forever surrender the forces that once held me in good standing with those around me.  I can be in good graces with society as a whole while being abhorred at the individual level.  Such is where I am presently.  Those days of interpersonal relationships have passed; at the cost of losing those around me, I have found honesty – an honesty that only exists beyond the event horizon and in a place that only I can call home.

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Comments

  1. Anonymous says

    I seems that we are polar opposites on this matter. I want my mask. By keeping your mask off, it would seem that it slowly slipped away from you. I on the other hand never take it off. Even alone, and away from the company of others, I still wear it. It is essential to my survival in the civilized world. It is my armor, and it is also a prison of sorts. I depend on my mask more then most, at least as far as I can tell (It’s not often you get to speak with another psychopath, and I suspect it’s only the more well adjusted ones that are so easily found) Anyway, my mask is the only way I know of to keep the real me under lock and key. It’s the only thing that separates me from the monsters. It’s not perfect. My mask has it’s fair share of cracks. But it serves it’s purpose. I keep my self destruction to my self, and I’m a functional member of society so long as nobody looks too closely. I wear my mask, and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep it that way.

    -A

    • Scarlet Rose says

      There’s such a beauty to honest communication though, and for that you need to lose the mask. I’ve had a few people in my life I could really talk about my thoughts with and it’s been marvelous.

      One of them was a sociopath, so it was a mutual relief for us not to fake anything. She was herself and I was myself and even when we didn’t say a thing there was a feeling of togetherness I couldn’t get with anyone else. Being what we are makes us alone in the world, but in those moments we were alone together.

      The other was weirdly enough an empath. He had tried really hard to break me and ironically smashing himself against my mental walls broke him. He saw me as I am and made it his mission to help me. Some of that was nice, having an honest empathic opinion helped me patch up my mask. But he had a weird fixation on making me a perfect monster and encouraged some of my more negative traits. Really though he was just pathetic, so submissive and weak.

      I couldn’t get rid of my mask though, it’s what brings home the bacon since I have a job involving dealing with people. I suppose if I didn’t I’d be tempted.

      • FNP says

        If I want honest-ish communication, I use the internet. In face-to-face things, honesty can go screw itself though. On the internet, I don’t even bother with masking anything, and it’s definitely much less effort (though I still lie left and right about who I am and stuff like that).

        My job is thankfully entirely about sitting behind a computer and animating, so I only have to interact with coworkers (and no, I don’t give a damn about the water cooler, Steve, kindly fuck right off…) and my boss, who thinks I’m the best worker he’s got despite the fact I do very little work.

        • Anonymous says

          I’m with FNP on this one. Being honest while face to face or somebody I know can get way too messy. We aren’t one of the “fluffy” mental disorders, and most people don’t react too kindly towards us. From what I can gather most people would either react with disbelief, fear/repulsion, or “Oh god this person’s a serial killer!!” We’ve had our otherwise good name run into the dirt. People tend to be under the impression that psychopaths are dangerous, and have no qualms about tossing them aside if they get bored of them. I can’t possibly imagine where they got such a dreadful idea from…. Anyways, sarcasm aside, most of us just weren’t made for positive relationships with others, and I would be extremely distrustful of anybody that would choose to be around us. In my mind that means they think we’re amusing, they’ve got their own kind of crazy, or their also a psychopath. I don’t like being somebody’s play thing, it should be the other way around. Crazy i can deal with, but not if I don’t have to. And another psychopath? Well I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be around another me.

          -A

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