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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 objects in people's shoes). I stole from stores, friends, and fellow students as often as I felt I could get away with it. When caught (this happened rarely) I always was able to blame someone else. All of this continued into high school.

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.

Phage Phage 26-30, F 121 Responses Feb 17, 2009

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I have been dx with aspd and bpd also I have not come across anyone else who isn't just self diagnosing. have you had and actual qualified pdoc tell you that your primary diagnosis is aspd or bpd? or have you googled both and put the pieces together?

Your boring fat ***.

Human beings very much relish their romanticizing do they not?

The aspect of the sociopath remains a sense of security, of power; it must feel like a boon in a life afflicted by crippling insecurity. But of course, love, you know all this.

Not only dripping with a lust for validation through disassociation, your wording reveals the disconnect in your purported sociopathic nature, but, rudely enough, it is also dreary. Filled with obvious nods to basic psychology as to what "describes" a sociopath; the relatively normal upbringing, cruelty to animals, teenage deliquency, promiscuity, basic empathic links missing, etc.

Do yourself a favor the next time you feel compelled to project, author in some sharpness and perhaps you may extrapolate a shred of respect, if even a nod from those who truly share what you admire enough to mimic.

I doubt this though, a life of emotional slavery does distract the mind from its own refinement.

Indeed, intellect is the true filter, and the only precursor honest enough to offer any validity to the word, written or otherwise.

Another disappointment, though I do so enjoy these little stories.

I can relate to some of this. I know this must sound a bit strange, but, I used to be a sociopath. I was sexually, psycologically, and emotionally abused since the age of two. I lived with a possessive, demented, cold-and-calculating man who was born without morals or a conscience. I was told that this man was my father, which was a lie. My father died in 2009 -something I was unaware of until I was fifteen. I'm not sure exactly when my self-loathing and severe depression turned to emptiness and sadomasochistic psychosis, but, I remember when I was 12 or 13 and I murdered a kitten. I felt severe dissasociation and emptiness, just going through the motions of picking it up and flinging it against the wall until it's neck snapped. It was the strangest experience, so mechanical, like I was lifeless for those few moments. I felt no remorse either. When I was 14, I was thrown into an RTF, which was pretty much just a corrupt insane asylum where a bunch of pathetic cocksuckers tortured kids. I had an utterly hellish experience there. But, I found that when I saw someone suffering, my concious mind felt nothing while my subconcious mind tried to make me sympathetic. I could really like someone yet be totally unmoved by their pain. I had sexually arousing fantasies about torturing and murdering my adversaries. I realized I was a sociopath either a bit before or a bit after my 15th birthday. I was released in the March of my 15th year. I was released into the hands of my abuser, who physically abused me later on that year. After the attack, I was placed with my stepfather. A month or so in, I regained my conscience through the power of God. It may seem trivial, but, I was going to throw a piece of garbage on the floor and stopped, thinking 'what would God want me to do?' and I threw it in the garbage. I could feel the Holy Spirit rushing through my body. And now, years later, my conscience, my vivid emotions, and my faith and focus in life are still intact. I hope you find yourself again, Phage.

I'm bipolar, psychopathic tendencies, maybe histrionic, but who cares. I was curious. My mood swings are completely narcissistic in nature, depression stemming from control issues and delusions of grandeur. My ex with ASPD confused it with empathy. I would imagine the same goes for interpretations regarding your BPD. Empathy for yourself, does not make an empath. Thoughts?

I have never met a woman whom I can relate to before. This is kind of mesmerizing.

Can you get any more boring? You claim that others quickly bore you and yet you do the same things over and over and over and over again...yawn...

This story was awesome. Thank you, I was entertained.

Hi Phage

I think it takes alot of courage to admit all of this, although I cannot relate to most of it, I can relate to some. Very interesting read!

Sounds like you need an *** kicking.

Do you have any same sex siblings? (I presume sisters)? Actually just curious, not trolling.

Hi Phage...:)



I am curious - the "various personal reasons" you mention in your OP for a resulting (and from all that I am able to guage, first) emotional breakdown at 17...

What were they?

You seem so analytical and insightful, so very apt and willing to share and (if you will please excuse my suggesting so) BOAST about the very abnormal nature of yourself (self-proclaimed). And so it leads me to ponder - the "events" you so eloquently skimmed over - I am fascinated. Why should one as seemingly self assured and expressive as yourself only be willing to touch on what must be a (or more likely be one of many) material causal factor of the first of many (assumed) breakdowns? And yet be otherwise so articulate?

Torturing animals...I can relate but torturing humans is so much more fun, I refrain from torturing animals now, I used to **** all over my mams chihuaua and shoot pellets at it, I even attempted drowning it, I burned it and kicked it, but at the end of it all it is a ******* way of projecting themselves the real delight comes from the fear in a persons eyes.

Don't listen to him, Phage! You don't look like a pig in makeup at all, you look more like a pig after a fireworks accident!

Phage, if this is your picture, may i say that you look like a pig smeared in makeup. I can understand your enthusiasm behind every comment from masochistic old masturbators and losers, this is probably your only chance to boost your illusion of self-esteem.

dewduster you're the saddest old ****** on the internet. pictures and **** don't do it for you, you impotent sad ****? you need actual responses so that it feels like the bad *** ladies are interacting with you, you pathetic old ****.

i'd like to mummify in tape phage and missyanthropy and to torture them the way they tortured their cats. I'd actually enjoy it. and i'm not even a sociopath.

It's been a long time Phage. How goes it?

I got bored half way through that and stopped reading but you sound ok to me.

Unconditional love? I'm quite sure no such thing exists outside of books and self-deception. As for the rest... are you sure you're posting on the right story? Because I don't really do death fantasies or "horrors of darkness". Yeah, I have a certain fascination with the morbid, and I've considered killing people before, but neither is a defining feature of either my life or identity.



Jwhitemns2010, my purpose, if you want to call it that, is to experience pleasure.

My my how very interesting. Hmmn. It sounds to me like your not begging for attention, your not apologizing for being what you are. Intriguing. I suppose as long as you have a place for yourself in this world then there is no need to criticize. Just don't be waste that has no use. What IS your purpose? Can you answer that?

It just may be, you have a vast capacity for unconditional love.

Having no opportunity --(living in semi-isolation and, becoming too deeply introverted) -- to express and receive love -- One's intellectual acumen in such an affair, invariably becomes aberrant, inverts passion into vanity and anger.

It is so much,-- "The Theater of The Absurd" --a self-induced illusion.



(in short)

One would rather revel in the subjective 'horrors' of darkness and death-fantasy, than allow the objective world to see one as one actually is.



Never is it impossible, to exit in such a way as no one would notice.

hi sexy.

I am just kidding around. Actually I know that I am unable to do anything

to really make you happy so I am glad if Phage is sometimes nice/sexy to

you. *smile*…DD

Phage flashes me all the time. We have rough violent sexy time on our off days. You knew this. You knew. /sigh

Ohooo sweet Phage, that is the nicest thing you have ever said to me. I am touched.

I have a semi-hard on and I am going to go looking for a **** star with long legs being gang banged or fu*king a horse while I jack off. Thank you…DD





EvilDemon, I like it that you avoid *****. 2 things I never understood about “normal” men. (1.) Why discourage other men from becoming gay? We would have made a great team in part because you would leave any ***** to me. Nothing wrong with that.

(2.) When a girl did put out they would call her bad names. That would only discourage

other girls from putting out. DUMB!

Dewduster, I try to disagree with you as often as possible, but I find under these circumstances that it's just impossible. You have my apologies. Oh, and you shouldn't think of yourself as handicapped. I mean, sure, you can't fart, but I bet you can release some truly awful aromas from your colostomy bag.



ED, I have changed my mind again. It is indeed appropriate for you to be referred to by the acronym for eating disorder. It's all perfectly logical if you look at it in the right way.

EvilDemon, do you think they actually want to be gotten by the likes of you and me?

A Gay (not necessary happy) EvilDemon and a old fart (who is unable to fart) no longer very dangerous Dewduster.

EccentricOne, anything about my lack of sexual appeal would hurt. One of the worse things about growing old is your growing lack of sexual attractiveness. I suspect it is worse for women then it is men in general but hard (or lack there of) for all.



When I was working nights at a teaching hospital and going to the University in the day

I always had some nice (or better BAD) girl who wanted a ride on my Harley. (Ha, I named him “Harley”.)…DD



P/s Phage “flashed you and not me. I am wounded, deep.

Demonface,

Grow some balls and suck it up ******. SMOOCH YOU!



DD,

Thanks and please lay out a mean plan for me to pursue. I think you've experienced it all.