Napalm showers to show this coward that my brain’s not here to fuck around. Brain matter on the wall, dripping as it falls, only to remind myself of the cyclical nature of it all. Blood boiling, ground soiled, the rage is here again. It won’t stay, I hope and pray, and the status quo will this time stay. Clusterfucked, thunderstruck, it will all come back one day. No control, ripped and torn, I wait for the deluge to end. Sinew flowing, mind-blowing, just please God, let it all stop.
I don’t think that most people understand what is meant by psychopathic irritability. When most think of the term, they conjure images of a rough day in which they just want to be left alone lest they lash out. Imagine this, but on steroids. My state is one of perpetual irritability. There is no rhyme nor reason as to what will set me off. The slightest spark can ignite an unholy rage. I am a perpetual powder keg, and my ability to stave off an explosion is limited. The best the outsider can do is to ensure that they are not provoking the psychopath. You don’t want to be the zookeeper eaten by the bear, after all.
I am a very irritable person. If the stars align just right, there is no refuge for anyone. The way they look, talk, write, breathe, or exist all grates on me. I want them gone; I’ll make them gone and I will do so ruthlessly. I want the chaff removed from my presence. I want to move unhindered and I want to occupy those spaces I desire. I will not accommodate, only eradicate.
I have no filter between my brain and words or my brain and my hands. I act instinctually and often to the dismay of others. I am a landmine in plain sight, just waiting for someone to step on my detonator. In the written world, where I spend most of my time, I find that I can often catch myself before doing something rash. In the real world though, all bets are off – though if you should bet, always bet on red.
Irritability and poor behavioral controls are common in psychopaths. Essentially this means that our lack of a filter causes the antisocial thoughts in our minds to become antisocial actions. Everyone thinks antisocial thoughts from time to time, but most do not translate such thoughts into actions as they realize both the consequences to be had and the abnormality with respect to the personality that they project. The psychopath is a mental four year-old in many respects. We think, we act, we move on.
When I’m seeing red, you best not be baiting me with your flag. There is no rhyme or reason to my irritability, but when I am irritable, no one is safe. The best anyone can do is to stay out of my way and to wait until the storm passes. I’m breathing fire and you will burn.
Colors become brighter and noises grate harder. Every word spoken around me takes on a tone that begs for silencing. I do not know why I lash out, but in a state of such hypersensitivity, it seems like the logical conclusion. Any hope of wearing my mask with a perfect fit fades as others begin to wonder what they did to piss me off. The reality is that they did little. I’m just ready to blow.