I don't know the first time I used
“sociopath” in a blog. I don't know when I discovered the word
and felt it had anything to do with my personality, or, I guess, lack
there of. Every time I use it, much to my own betrayal, I feel it is
incomplete. Never have I been “unfeeling.” Never have I been
unable to “understand where someone else is coming from.” Not
once have my nicdecisions been blind to a kind of “inevitable
fallout.”
Tonight, I did what I've done in the past. I chatted up some people, got myself invited back to their house, drank a little more, sang a few songs, and found myself one on one with the host after his friends left. Notably, one of his friends drunkenly expressed how she desired this man to be the one to hear her unload some troubles she was dealing with. She wanted him to point her in the right direction, be the one she could unburden herself with, and just fill that space that “the one who seems to understand something” should.”
I immediately did me. I asked what he thought of the power he had over his friend. He took immediate offense. He doesn't conceive of his place as a kind of power. He reflexively read all sorts of negative connotation and implications into my question. He was as quick as anyone to “rephrase” what I said into something more reflective of what he felt instead of what was actually said. Each attempt I made to ask him for a better way to phrase the question, a “better” line of questioning, or to switch roles and have him ask me questions that he considered “beyond the pale” went unanswered or argued with.
I honestly don't give myself enough credit for what I've learned. Nobody listens. People hear what they feel. This is not a fact that is lost on me, no matter how much you'd like to insist I don't get it. What you fail to understand is that I refuse to let my capacity for dialogue fall to that level. Yes, a number of times in our “conversation,” the word “condescending” was dropped. I will die “condescending” if the measure of that judgment is me asking you to be more specific. Literally, the point when I left the room was when I asked him to ask me a question. Instead of doing so, he started with some judgment, some unnecessary confusion and complication, as to the nature of the task.
If what I say is always and forever “wrong” and “condescending” and “inappropriate” and I say, “Hey, let's role reverse. Ask me anything, especially the questions you think aren't 'appropriate for someone else,” and your only response is to huff and puff and proclaim my inanity, I'm not the one who is wrong.
People think, I assume, I'm okay with losing “friends” because of some up-my-own-ass conception of intelligence or self-righteousness. At least, this is what is most often forwarded to me when I try to ask people sincere questions and am instead met with, “HOW DARE YOU!?” defensive and ridiculous behaviors. No. I'm okay with losing you because you aren't an individual. You're not thinking. You're not willing to do the work, so when I ask you something like, “What does it feel like to have measure of power over your friends?” You say I DONT' THINK LIKE THAT, FUCK YOU!” instead of something sane and thoughtful like, “I think it's a great responsibility, and I worry everyday I might say something that sends them on the wrong path.”
See, in my world, one of those answers shows an awareness and responsibility for the reality of your social dynamic. The other is vehemently afraid of dealing with the idea that we don't exist on equal playing fields. Just because you have the capacity to manipulate someone doesn't make it wrong by default. In hippie bullshit theory we all start with a full deck and trade accordingly. When you answer me with some version adjacent to that sentiment, I think you're a superficial piece of bullshit.
I've never felt bad about my awareness. What does that mean? I've never felt guilt, in and of itself, that I recognize what it takes to get to one end or another. I've noticed plenty of girls who've been attracted to me that I let be. I've seen how I could climb the ranks in job situations that I forwent for someone who was more suited. I've no guilt about the time I tried to share with my friends or the feelings I expressed in my relationship because when my sociopath devil on one shoulder said, “You know how to make her happy,” I simply replied, “I'm not going to manipulate the person I want to be with.”
It's a choice. It's always a choice. You can look, or you can lash out. You can deny, or you can acknowledge. I don't believe that gopher looking queen doesn't understand the pull he has over his friends. That he would be offended that I would even bring it up is not a measure of my “cold oblivious sociopathy.”
I really do struggle with people who think I just don't know or just don't “get it.” I get it too well. I still overwhelmingly feel. I make different choices instead. When I ask you to ask me a question that's “too much,” I already know what's going to happen. I'm already the comedian who says nothing is beyond joking about. There is no way to get the truth out of you without an attack. Every time I ask you the stupid question about how to phrase something better or what's the “right' kind of thing to talk about, I'm just fucking with you. You're not a comedian. You're not honest. So the answer is always some version of, “You're fucked up for even thinking that way!”
I'm not. You've no argument that's persuaded me that thinking is fucked up because it happens. I'm not immoral because I'm aware of something you choose not to be. I'm not “unfeeling” because I respond to adrenaline and pain and fear with words and questions instead of accusations. People never tire of being the cliché. Please, attack me for my polite question, it's almost like you're the first defensive empty asshole I've ever talked to.
I went out tonight almost by accident. I came home and had a beer, then a shot, then a mixed drink, decided “fuck it” and ventured out to my favorite bar. I ran into people I recognized, I chatted a bit about law, and then I closed out the night challenging the host on his awareness. I did it because I want nothing less. I'm not gay, so we weren't going to hook up despite the Disney and Phantom of the Opera songs we sang together. His fat girl friend and wildly insecure child friends figuring out how they were going to fuck later were the opposite of interesting. So I looked for what I do. I probed for an aware person. Not a “smart” person. Not a “sympathetic” person. Just someone honest and aware enough of their own mind and place in the world. And, per usual, I was denied.
If you ever act so idiotic as to start calling me “condescending” because I ask you a question, just get out of my life now. If you ever feel the urge to substitute words I never said for your “brilliant inference” about what I actually said, get fucked. If you fail to see the irony of trying to school me on how bad of a communicator I am while you do everything in your power to morph me into some easily trashed and shit on bastardization, consider ducking, as I'm considering starting swinging. Nothing is off limits. Your offense is YOURS. It's not right, it's not justified, and it's nothing to do with whatever I said to you. We're nothing and will never be anything if that isn't true. If you don't know that by now, there's no hope for you.
Tonight, I did what I've done in the past. I chatted up some people, got myself invited back to their house, drank a little more, sang a few songs, and found myself one on one with the host after his friends left. Notably, one of his friends drunkenly expressed how she desired this man to be the one to hear her unload some troubles she was dealing with. She wanted him to point her in the right direction, be the one she could unburden herself with, and just fill that space that “the one who seems to understand something” should.”
I immediately did me. I asked what he thought of the power he had over his friend. He took immediate offense. He doesn't conceive of his place as a kind of power. He reflexively read all sorts of negative connotation and implications into my question. He was as quick as anyone to “rephrase” what I said into something more reflective of what he felt instead of what was actually said. Each attempt I made to ask him for a better way to phrase the question, a “better” line of questioning, or to switch roles and have him ask me questions that he considered “beyond the pale” went unanswered or argued with.
I honestly don't give myself enough credit for what I've learned. Nobody listens. People hear what they feel. This is not a fact that is lost on me, no matter how much you'd like to insist I don't get it. What you fail to understand is that I refuse to let my capacity for dialogue fall to that level. Yes, a number of times in our “conversation,” the word “condescending” was dropped. I will die “condescending” if the measure of that judgment is me asking you to be more specific. Literally, the point when I left the room was when I asked him to ask me a question. Instead of doing so, he started with some judgment, some unnecessary confusion and complication, as to the nature of the task.
If what I say is always and forever “wrong” and “condescending” and “inappropriate” and I say, “Hey, let's role reverse. Ask me anything, especially the questions you think aren't 'appropriate for someone else,” and your only response is to huff and puff and proclaim my inanity, I'm not the one who is wrong.
People think, I assume, I'm okay with losing “friends” because of some up-my-own-ass conception of intelligence or self-righteousness. At least, this is what is most often forwarded to me when I try to ask people sincere questions and am instead met with, “HOW DARE YOU!?” defensive and ridiculous behaviors. No. I'm okay with losing you because you aren't an individual. You're not thinking. You're not willing to do the work, so when I ask you something like, “What does it feel like to have measure of power over your friends?” You say I DONT' THINK LIKE THAT, FUCK YOU!” instead of something sane and thoughtful like, “I think it's a great responsibility, and I worry everyday I might say something that sends them on the wrong path.”
See, in my world, one of those answers shows an awareness and responsibility for the reality of your social dynamic. The other is vehemently afraid of dealing with the idea that we don't exist on equal playing fields. Just because you have the capacity to manipulate someone doesn't make it wrong by default. In hippie bullshit theory we all start with a full deck and trade accordingly. When you answer me with some version adjacent to that sentiment, I think you're a superficial piece of bullshit.
I've never felt bad about my awareness. What does that mean? I've never felt guilt, in and of itself, that I recognize what it takes to get to one end or another. I've noticed plenty of girls who've been attracted to me that I let be. I've seen how I could climb the ranks in job situations that I forwent for someone who was more suited. I've no guilt about the time I tried to share with my friends or the feelings I expressed in my relationship because when my sociopath devil on one shoulder said, “You know how to make her happy,” I simply replied, “I'm not going to manipulate the person I want to be with.”
It's a choice. It's always a choice. You can look, or you can lash out. You can deny, or you can acknowledge. I don't believe that gopher looking queen doesn't understand the pull he has over his friends. That he would be offended that I would even bring it up is not a measure of my “cold oblivious sociopathy.”
I really do struggle with people who think I just don't know or just don't “get it.” I get it too well. I still overwhelmingly feel. I make different choices instead. When I ask you to ask me a question that's “too much,” I already know what's going to happen. I'm already the comedian who says nothing is beyond joking about. There is no way to get the truth out of you without an attack. Every time I ask you the stupid question about how to phrase something better or what's the “right' kind of thing to talk about, I'm just fucking with you. You're not a comedian. You're not honest. So the answer is always some version of, “You're fucked up for even thinking that way!”
I'm not. You've no argument that's persuaded me that thinking is fucked up because it happens. I'm not immoral because I'm aware of something you choose not to be. I'm not “unfeeling” because I respond to adrenaline and pain and fear with words and questions instead of accusations. People never tire of being the cliché. Please, attack me for my polite question, it's almost like you're the first defensive empty asshole I've ever talked to.
I went out tonight almost by accident. I came home and had a beer, then a shot, then a mixed drink, decided “fuck it” and ventured out to my favorite bar. I ran into people I recognized, I chatted a bit about law, and then I closed out the night challenging the host on his awareness. I did it because I want nothing less. I'm not gay, so we weren't going to hook up despite the Disney and Phantom of the Opera songs we sang together. His fat girl friend and wildly insecure child friends figuring out how they were going to fuck later were the opposite of interesting. So I looked for what I do. I probed for an aware person. Not a “smart” person. Not a “sympathetic” person. Just someone honest and aware enough of their own mind and place in the world. And, per usual, I was denied.
If you ever act so idiotic as to start calling me “condescending” because I ask you a question, just get out of my life now. If you ever feel the urge to substitute words I never said for your “brilliant inference” about what I actually said, get fucked. If you fail to see the irony of trying to school me on how bad of a communicator I am while you do everything in your power to morph me into some easily trashed and shit on bastardization, consider ducking, as I'm considering starting swinging. Nothing is off limits. Your offense is YOURS. It's not right, it's not justified, and it's nothing to do with whatever I said to you. We're nothing and will never be anything if that isn't true. If you don't know that by now, there's no hope for you.
