Moral Calculus
It is funny that people respond more to the rehashed photos and sayings that I include rather than what I am actually saying. This happens here as well as in reality. What is really funny about the whole thing is my soul is being flayed alive in a parody of hell on earth. Don’t worry I don’t feel it anymore.
Not even the fact that I went from being relatively OK and dealing with it to a full blown psycho in the space of weeks seems to bother anyone. Maybe that’s because I hide well in every realm but here and the world that used to live inside my head. The true difference between a psychopath and a sociopath is that one doesn’t feel the difference between right and wrong and the other knows the difference and just doesn’t care. Which do you think I am becoming?
How long can a person not feel before they become amoral. Pain teaches us what to avoid or in my case what feels the best. It is how I cope with all of the other stuff sometimes through sex or on the edge of a knife. Without pain we don’t avoid the things we normally would. Yes, I am more than a little bit insane but I am good at seeing things for what they really are. I am above all else honest with myself and others to a fault. It gets me into trouble more often than not.
It is not that I don’t know it hurts others it is I just don’t care. I know that on some level I should and I once did but that was in the endless stretch of time that I fondly classify as before. What is really ironic is the same thing that makes me so ruthless as makes me more capable. Faster, harder, more calculating than I ever was even at my best. Most noticeable is that my aim is better and in speaking, writing, hunting, and fighting I am much sharper and everything is clearer now that I am not fettered by emotion or empathy. I sleep less, eat less, drink less, and am generally vibrating with adrenaline all the time. I can make practical logical choices despite the consequences to other people.
I am finding that there are a lot of things that are unneeded and most people do things that are just contrary all the time. Sometimes what I say is mistaken for malice but for the most part it is because I just don’t understand why it bothers them. I should and I am sure I used to but its just not there anymore. Is this better? If you look at it in terms of efficiency it seems so or would if it were not so very wrong. I could very easily become the killer that I always knew was inside me and is probably buried deep inside us all. I introduced myself to that particular darkness a long time ago. So here is the equation which is greater the need to kill or the fact that I used to think it was wrong even if I knew they deserved to die. Its simple math or it should be. Shouldn’t it?
I am watching, standing back as little bits of my soul are flayed and have long since given up praying for it to stop. I can hear the bits that once made me who I am shrieking in pain as they are torn, shredded and tortured until there is nothing left and I have to admit its beautiful, much like pain is, or the razors edge is.
I know the damage I do to myself is viewed as wrong but I don’t care
I know that I am just wrong and have gone so far from OK that even I can see it but I can’t seem to bring myself to care
I know that what I am thinking probably enough to get me locked up or worse but it doesn’t bother me anymore
It probably should
I know that I am searching for something but I don’t know what or what will happen when I find it
I know I crossed a line somewhere and I did it on purpose and I don’t care that I did
I know after they tried to help I became different, something new and they didn’t care
They played in my head once too often, their own private sandbox, prodding because I am an unusual case, tearing things up with their clumsy fumbling. They thought they were helping, making me face something without realizing that I already had. Never thinking that it would turn me into something dark, desperate, and hungry. It isn’t facing something that’s the issue I already knew what was down there. They just let it out. I would say god help me but god help them is more appropriate.
There is Nothing Again
In the past weeks I have tried to write honestly I have. Unfortunately everything seems to be coming out just wrong. It is like I can no longer use writing to articulate what is in my head and even the world inside me seems bleaker than normal. I can still see it, it is still there but I no longer live there. I am no longer a part of my own world. It is like looking through glass frosted over by wicked cold letting me see but not feel anything but a cold that not even my world contained. Anyone who is wondering about that world is welcome to read, more than a few posts contain glimpses of that world.
It’s like having a limb severed, being able to see it, but not feel it, not touch it. Not be a part of it. One wouldn’t expect it but it is quite painful actually. To not be in touch with something that has tortured me so beautifully, leaving me twisted and broken. It is much like not being able to touch the one that can twist you into a wonderfully broken thing and make your mind fly apart with the sheer ecstasy of it. Yeah you know who I mean. Only this is worse. That person is just a person, outside and at times replaceable. This is a part of me.
“Will it let me back in,” is the only question that I can ask because it is no longer my choice. They think that banishing the darkness with pharmaceuticals is the only way I will be free. What I don’t tell them is I like the darkness, enjoy it, it makes me whole, without it I am a ghost locked inside myself. I can’t feel, I can’t write, I can’t laugh, love, or breath. Stealing a part of me is something only a lover should do.
On Being Alone
There are a lot of truths about me that I am fine with being alone is one of them. I hope those who read this add their own.
1. I am fine with being alone. I like it, need it, cringe without it. Many don’t understand that I don’t need someone there with me on a daily, weekly, or even monthly basis. I particularly don’t need a boyfriend or girlfriend to validate me.
2. I get more accomplished when there is no one around.
3. I like to eat alone because I can read or simply enjoy the food without having to make conversation.
4. I like to go to movies alone. I can hog the drink and popcorn. I can enjoy the movie without someone judging me for what I am watching or what I think about it.
5. I don’t care if people see me alone. I really don’t care what they think. When they try to keep me company because I am alone and must need it it just keeps me from enjoying the activity I am doing.
6. I don’t think a woman alone has a problem, no friends, or is lonely.
7. Please don’t touch me. I don’t like it when you do. It is not that I am inhuman I just don’t want your hand on me. I don’t feel an obligation to put my hand on you. I don’t want to be hugged or comforted I might be alone but I am not lonely.
8. If it looks like I am doing something I probably am, leave me alone. This is a big one for people who interrupt my reading, eating, or working time.
9. I am not lonely. Alone does not equal lonely please don’t assume it does.
10. I am not in the market for a husband, boyfriend, partner, or lover. I do not need someone to complete me I am complete all on my own.
These are all things about me that people have mentioned or done. Some of them drive me crazy (like I am not there already). Society tries to dictate what I should feel when I am not with someone and it makes me cringe because it is just not me. Just because I happen to be alone it does not make me lonely.
Not Me
I have not been myself lately or rather I have been too much myself lately locked inside my own little world begging for escape. I look around at the people with me who don’t know me at all and slip back into an alternate reality that is more real to me than anything I can touch or hold but is infinitely more twisted that anything thought up on this plane.
In my world if something can think to do it, it has been done in technicolor brilliance that can only be accomplished in the mind. Things so twisted that they can only exist inside someone and they can only feast on the light and love in your soul. And feast they do. I am losing it.
I look at others, listen to them, and realize that no one has it worse or better than me because their mind might be doing it to them too. If I can hide it away from everyone but my readers they can hide it from me. Which sparks the thought, as I look at each person in turn, what horrible things is their mind doing to me as we talk. Are they similar things to what my mind is doing to them. Would they cringe away from me in horror if I told them or would they just smile at me knowingly.
Is that the same hunger or darkness I see behind their eyes? Is it the same blackness that is behind your eyes? I don’t know why you suddenly shift away only that you do. My mind instantly goes to the questions is the darkness showing, radiating off me like some twisted negative lighthouse. Or is it the blankness, the utter soulless look that is in my eyes. Does it make you think “she’s checked out?” Do you even notice? No one else does…
The Glass is Definitely….
Optimist – The glass is half full
Pessimist – The glass is half empty
Opportunist – Look there is more room for vodka
Fatalist – Your are not going to throw that glass at me are you
Absolutist – I know there is a glass and some liquid
Accompanist – The glass and the liquid go well together.
Ufologist – That liquid was brought by aliens, they want us to fill the other half of the glass
Numismatist – Let’s play quarters
Nutritionist – That’s half the daily allowance of blue liquid in the glass
Occultist – Half the liquid was sacrificed to raise a demon.
Futurist – I will drink the rest of the water in that glass at a later date
Eristist – I am going to throw that glass at you!
Absurdist – Flip the glass over and the liquid will stay in
Geneticist – I can clone that liquid and fill the glass
Downward Spiral
A unique look at what wanders around in the darkness that is my mind. All of the slithering, slick things that twist and curl their way around important parts, beautiful memories. Corrupting them making them into something as dark and twisted as themselves. Making the pain seem real and the hope nothing but desperation.
The darkness caresses anything that is good and beautiful in my life, wrapping around it like a rapist. Moving against it, sliding, and slipping into the crevices. Its liquid cold pulsing, growing to fit and push against the boundaries of the memory before filling it up and stretching its walls. Soaking it in slippery black before pulling back out again leaving the beauty tainted and dripping with viscous liquid.
Hmm Hello There Allow Me to Introduce Myself
While reading over previous incarnations of introductions I realized that I have never actually properly introduced myself. These are the things that I keep meaning to say but somehow get lost when I get caught up in writing. In a way I wish you could see the world as I see it. I wish I could bring you into the splendor, beauty, and horror that is where my mind lives most of the time.
I try to bring you there I really do but it doesn’t always work out really well. This is where your comments come in. Even if it was just a hey I liked that description or I hated what you wrote they tell me that someone is at least thinking about what I write. I don’t ever delete them bad or good and with the exception of racial slurs I publish them all.
- I am completely crazy. Just when you think I am not you will notice something else that slides its slick slippery way into my writing and therefore into your mind. Come to think of it I like the thought of part of my mind writhing somewhere wet and dark in your head.
- I don’t know if I enjoy being crazy although some days are better than others.
- I want to die
So we have an open invitation to comment, rant, yell, scream, vent, talk, whisper, or scream and you have an open invitation to participate in killing another human who wants to be killed.
Is there anyone
I don’t understand why my mind does what it does or comes up with what it sees. Some are brilliant inventions and I know exactly how they work and some are dark and twisted things that kill when you look directly at them. Mad killer I wait until you decide I am your victim, someone who just wanted to know what it is like to kill than I invite you to try it with the complete disclaimer that I asked you to and the estate will take care of your legal fees.
Has to be said
I openly welcome any comments and often retrieve some of them from spam because that is where some legit comments end up. It may take a few days but I also approve all comments except for those that are obviously spam. I found this one under spam which it probably is from someone named Carpet. Tell me what is wrong with this comment
“of course like your website however you need to take a look at the spelling on quite a few of your posts. A number of them are rife with spelling issues and I find it very troublesome to inform the truth however I�ll definitely come back again.”
Providing for abbreviation I ignored the beginning of it. Now I need to take a look at my spelling on quite a few of my posts… umm aside from the Latin which comes up spelled wrong because oh well let’s see IT ISN’T IN ENGLISH there is nothing spelled wrong. I am just neurotic enough to check. Can someone how to inform the truth? I definitely would like to speak with the Truth just because it might be fun but to inform him of something might be a bit insulting. Now I understand coming back again there are many blogs I follow spelled wrong or not but I do know the html for an ‘.
For my readers I am sorry for this rant but the teacher in me twitches when someone says I spelled something wrong. I worked very hard to learn both English spelling and grammar (no it is not my first language) and it annoys me to no end to have someone say my posts are rife with spelling errors by someone who obviously needs a lesson in grammar, html, and apparently spelling. Hey even the term schizophrenic architects is spelled right.
Sorry for the rant. Oh and if this was spam it wasn’t very good spam considering I live in America and am not about to have my carpets in England cleaned… now cleaned by an Englishman… preferably naked… umm well yeah I am not even going to continue with that thought, way too frustrated.
Can't Sleep Clowns Will Eat Me 