A Pretty Parasite, Or "Of Course I'm a Nice Person, Now Quit Being Such a Nit and Fetch Me Another Drink."
To preface, I have antisocial personality disorder and borderline personality disorder, and maybe some other stuff, and it makes for an unsettling combination. I have no conscience, no moral code, and no desire for either.
My story, if you want to call it that, has to begin at the beginning. I'm the only child of a single mother, and my dad's side of the family are all somewhere between weird and insane. My mom's side, where I was raised, are just typical lower middle class nonentities.
I was never physically abused as a child, though one might make the case for emotional abuse. Certainly my mother was a terrible flake, horribly over-protective, and verbally abusive when she got upset. When I was 7 or so she moved in with her parents for good... talk about a bad cliche.
I had a pleasant, active, outdoorsy childhood growing up on a small island with 500 people, and a ferry that closed very early. Needless to say, I was very sheltered, I had few friends, and being weird and intelligent I was a social outcast.
This rarely bothered me as I was also something of a loner and, though I had a couple of friends, we never associated with the usual conglomerate of schoolyard rejects.
None of this prevented me from being a malicious delinquent. Though I did perfectly normal weird-kid things, like dungeons and dragons, I also was also a vicious tease from as young as I can remember. I enjoyed slowly roasting bugs under magnifying glasses, torturing my least favorite cat (like, you know, mummifying him in masking tape and suspending him from a drying rack, or trying to condition him not to whine by repeatedly striking him every time he did), and playing mean-spirited pranks (like placing sharp ob
I was also a violent child, I got in fights (and tried to claw out people's eyes), thew desks, assaulted and threatened my relatives, and the likes up until I was 15 when I realized that to continue in these sorts of overt violent displays were doomed to land me in legal trouble. It was also about this time that I was getting very good at manipulating my mother without resorting to violence, so much so that she finally gave up on enforcing any rules... she just got more verbally abusive. When I was 16 I realized that I felt almost meaningful emotions. I think it had began earlier, but it was then that I realized something was wrong.
This was a source of puzzlement, and I tried to discuss the matter with people (adults, mostly, I rarely socialized with people my age), but invariably they didn't understand and didn't quite believe me. If anything, I was thought to be very balanced.
At 17 I fell apart emotionally for various personal reasons that I won't get into, and I was a depressed, crying mess. So much for the perfect, cold, remorseless logic that I held so dearly too. Issues and incompetent therapy ensued. I dropped out of school, lost all my friends, and drifted away into isolation. Though I wasn't diagnosed with borderline personality disorder until recently, that's when I would say it blossomed.
I starved myself, cut, stole compulsively, and generally descended into miserable, emotionally turbulent, neurotic isolation. It was only when I was 22 and inherited money that I escaped.
I moved to the city, got a place, and proceeded to party, drink like a fish, do drugs, have promiscuous sex, and generally live the good life. I stopped stealing because I didn't need to, I stopped cutting because I didn't like the scars, and eventually my ability to maintain neurotic focus on starving and purging failed and I began to eat more normally. My emotions remained turbulent in the normal borderline fashion, though of course I never had a conscience.
I will spare you the (better remembered and less vague and hastily skimmed over) details and switch over to how I am now.
My emotional turbulence is slowly fading, though at times I'm still hyper-sensitive to stimulus. More often, however, I feel almost nothing. I might be empty, or I might just be cool, serene, cruel and perfect. Sometimes it seems like who I am changes every day, and yet some things remain constant. I never feel remorse when I lie, steal, manipulate, or intentionally hurt people, and I do all but steal very frequently. People who can be taken advantage of in this manner probably deserve it, but even that is irrelevant. My actions require no moral justification or explanation because all such standards are without any meaning. Even in my most social moods, I can only form illusory connections with other people, the image of intimacy without any real substance behind it. I can like people, but only slowly, over a very long time, can I actually care. Most people bore me long before that ever happens. Actually, almost everything bores me after a month or two. I live in the moment, the past quickly becoming a haze of vague memories, the future incomprehensible chaos for which I plan only when I must.
I am not entirely without the ability to empathize, but it's entirely based on my ability to identify with someone. This is usually very little, and at most my response to other people's misery is, "Yikes, really sucks to be you," along with a vaguely unpleasant feeling and a desire not to watch. Of course, anyone I can hurt is not deserving of my respect and so not someone I can identify with.
At times I desperately desire connection with others, which is one of the reasons I have casual relationships. I thrive on the false connection formed by New Relationship Energy, and on the novelty of a new man (or woman) who I don't yet know well enough to be thoroughly bored with. I rarely seek out one night stands except when I'm on drugs (another of my long list of bad coping mechanisms), and even then these partners commonly find themselves caught up in the energy that I exude and it lasts longer.
I have managed to fall in love once, if love really is the right word. I certainly cared greatly for her, it hurt terribly when she left me. Actually, after so long together I had something of an identity crisis, I had tried to change a lot of who I am for her. Yet there's no denying that it was a mildly exploitative relationship. I always looked out for my desires over hers, always attempted to steer activities towards those I would enjoy rather than the ones she enjoyed, and was at times consistently maliciously insult her and her friends for no purpose other than entertainment and habit. This doesn't mean I didn't care, simply that I cared about her as an adjunct to my existence, or perhaps as a center for mine (I have no purpose, direction, or goal myself, and so finding that in a long-term partner proved useful). And even when I was with her, I was always keeping an eye out for someone better. An upgrade, if you will.
Interestingly enough, it was only after a great deal of thought that I realized that I am essentially very mean to almost everyone I know. I boss them around, I insist things go my way, I insult them and demean them right up to the limit that they will tolerate. With friends I only push so far as they tolerate, but I'm always a little amazed at how much pushovers they can be. People I don't care about, especially brainless guys who hit on me, those I enjoy seeing how long I can insult before the figure out that they're not getting laid and should just leave me the **** alone. Usually it takes a while.
But to what I was saying before, I often think of myself as very nice. Part of it's a costume personality I wear, though I really am genuinely nice most of the time. Indifferent, but nice. No, this is more that I cannot fathom what about my actions are wrong. I know intellectually, but it makes no more sense to me than if I were to be handed a supercomputer which in all ways resembled a bowl of overcooked spaghetti. As such, I see the actions I perform which are seen as socially negative as neutral, and so unless I think about it much I sometimes see myself as a good person.
And I'm sure I could go on at some length, but really, this is all I feel like writing now. It's already very long and I'm rather tired. I'm sure there are typing, spelling, grammar, and flow errors. Deal with it.