I’m going to argue against me being
an actual sociopath.
I write this enraged. See. But my rage
is stayed to my beating heart, accelerated breaths, and flying
fingers. People throw around sociopath like it’s an insult. They
pretend it is synonymous with not caring. They think that if they can
make it true in their heads then they can get away with volleying too
horrible of insults that they themselves could never be
capable of if it wasn’t the fault of that person over there.
I’d venture that a top reason some people find it so easy to
dislike me or flip a switch to hatred is because I won’t let them
be the victim. I have no sympathy if you want to wallow in self-pity
all the while pretending you’re even trying at getting better.
You can say and you can do. You can
think and feel. You can act. I don’t play pretend. Your feelings
will never overwhelm me. This isn’t because I don’t “feel the
same” it’s because I’m done feeling the same. I don’t need to
cry, scream, or name call. I don’t expect you to be exactly like
me, but I do expect you to respect yourself enough to not lose control. I
fight for control. I can’t begin to explain how persuasive I can be
in justifying not giving a fuck. In breaking down to a take no
prisoners attitude. I have to constantly work to not let what I know
to be harmful be used in spite and anger like you so callously use on
me.
I won’t feel guilty until I’m
making the decision to hurt you. I’ll never persuade you. I’ll
never teach you. If you want to fuck the same things up time and
again, that’s your fault. For every one person that might have
severe mental or chemical impairment there’s a million whiney bitch
ass niggas who need to grow the fuck up. I won’t suffer your
stupidity, your hatred, your stress, particularly via means of your
pious scorn or guilty conscious. You have the capacity to harm in
mind shattering ways. It’s only because you’re too fucking stupid
to understand that I abstain from making your miserable world any worse.
