Who Believes the Self-confessed Sociopath?
I don't believe half the people who claim to be sociopaths. I will admit that all who claim that (especially using their real identities) are certainly screwed up individuals. Why should you believe me that I am? Who cares? Just read. The labels really don't matter. Narcissist? Psychopath? Sociopath? Borderline? Who really cares? I just want to brag about who I am since I like what I am. I feel unrestricted and I feel at an advantage despite my phases of misery and depression. I am not devoid of conscience. It's just off from time to time.
What I can tell you about me is that I cannot put myself in others' shoes. I never feel bad about anything I do: For me to have taken an action in the first place means that I had justified in my mind why I would do it. Why feel bad after? I also have no firm principles or beliefs that I can't get rid of. I am whatever you want me to be so long as it works to my benefit. I am not the compulsive liar but I will lie convincingly when it suits me and I use selective honesty like a seasoned professional all while staring you in the eye with most heart-warming sincerity. I don't cheat or deceive for financial gain since I don't need to. I'm a minimalist and anti-consumerist by nature. I live among a small population with no chance for easy relocation where reputation must be guarded with one's life. The only thing that motivates me to go on is power -- my relationship of dominance over others. Fame, notoriety, money, sex are all secondary ob
I am sadistic. A smile comes to my lips when I hear stories of others being hurt. I enjoy hurting others myself -- emotionally, physically, verbally. I am the guy in the cinema who can't help but laughing when all others cringe at the sight of suffering of some innocent before them. I enjoy fighting and I am a mean son of a ***** when I take to drinking. I will pick on even those who are stronger than me: bouncers, the police. I will tell them incredible things hoping to get the crap kicked out of me or to be tossed in a cell. It never happens though. I kick the crap out of others. Sometimes others kick the crap out of me. I am masochistic. I hurt myself at times too and it doesn't bother me. A little pain lets you know you are alive.
I would *never* tell another person face to face that I am one. Some clever folks have seen the red flags and two or three have dared to call me by that label. It terrifies me when people see through my charming behaviour to the core. I avoid them. I think about them constantly and how I should handle them since they are a threat to me, my identity and my place in my social milieu. I find that avoiding them is the easiest thing. Nobody should ever be allowed to see through the mask. It's difficult acting normal and it wears me out but there's a price to be paid for letting your guard down and revealing the soulless being inside.
When I first encountered the term "sociopath" I was naive enough to share my suspicions with my girlfriend at that time and it was stupid. How do you tell a girlfriend that you really are incapable of loving her? Obviously you shouldn't. Once I saw how the information was affecting her, I quickly had to go back on all that I said and convince her that my self-diagnosis was inaccurate and that the various checklist criteria didn't apply to me. You quickly lose the naivite of confessing who you are when you realise that this kind of honesty does more damage to your social relationships. People would rather not know that you are not like them and that you don't care for them or feel for them or that if you do you only care for them like the owner of a prized possession.
Both my parents died when I was young. I benefited from good parenting and a good education so I have a strong moral education as well and as I am self-sustained financially I don't hit anybody up for simple things like money. To ask people for money is simply beneath me. I abhor other anti-social individuals. There is no community among us as far as I am concerned and I want to hurt all the others who share my experience. I reserve a special hatred in the deep recesses of that vile beating blood pumping instrument of mine I call a heart for con-artists, gamblers and thieves.
As I said, I have a strong moral background and education but I believe in nothing. I wouldn't go so far as calling myself amoral but there's no belief I wouldn't sacrifice in the name of expediency. It matters not to me with which religion I identify publicly. I believe in no god. I don't really believe I am God but I sure do feel like it. I feel as if only my experiences matter and that I have a clear insight into the way things are to which no other man or woman is privy. With that said, yes, I have shoplifted and stolen and engaged in other criminal behaviour but mostly just to try out crime just to see if I could. I have never been convicted of any crime and as far as the world knows I am a respectable individual based on my profession. I have no deep seated criminal convictions and only do these things to see if I can get a kick out of them. The fun never returns if I do the same thing over and I find that I have to escalate the activity to re-experience the joy of doing something that you aren't supposed to do or to be somewhere where you shouldn't be.
The most difficult part of being who I am is that you can never share your experiences except anonymously and this here is not exactly anonymous since my information has been logged, timestamped and recorded. This is fairly harmless information though and works more as a kind of therapy for me. I am convinced of my own superiority and it's silent suffering never being able to share the greatness of your character with others. I feel sometimes as if I am separate from the species known as homo sapiens.
Do I use and discard people? Sure. There's a great forum with whiney pansies who dated jerks on MSN groups called PSYCHOPATH dedicated to helping them heal that refers to my behaviour as idealisation and devaluation. I participated for some time but they quickly discovered my lack of empathy and booted me out. No love lost. They were beginning to annoy me with all their sob stories and irresponsible behaviour. An example of their nonsense was that they blame psychopaths for *everything* -- for giving them sexually transmitted infections instead of simply practising safe sex with a condom, for example. Idiots. Having the knowledge that I use and discard people does not help me to control the behaviour. It's really just a manifestation of my boredom with others. Why should I waste my precious seconds of living being around you or listening to you if there is no utility in our exchanges?
Do I need people? Yes, I need people. Power is a relationship among people. To exercise power you need people. Do I enjoy compliments? It depends. They don't really matter that much since they re-affirm all that I know about myself but I do enjoy being adored. It means the person is in some way under my control. Do I like criticism? No, especially when it comes from morons with half-baked ideas.
Do I have emotions? I feel mostly rage, boredom and the brief epsiodes of sheer excitement -- the dopamine rush -- when through my own cleverness I have attained my ends. My other emotions are quite shallow and I find it difficult to communicate to others what I feel. I usually switch the topic when people ask me to describe in any detail how I feel.
People looking at my pictures will always fixate on my eyes. They can't quite pin down what's behind them. Some find them beautiful, penetrating. For the ones who say nothing and probably know what I am, I am sure they see only the emptiness inside them.