My psychopathy VS. my emotions

Emotions. They're rather fickle entities, aren't they?

Generally, I'm not a very emotional person. This is both a blessing and a curse.

Many, many years ago I was diagnosed with psychopathy. This being said, I see and feel things that others...don't. There's a misconception that psychopaths have no emotions. This isn't true. We (psychopaths) just experience things on a different plane than the average person.

The way I see the world isn't how most people see the world. Being a psychopath, I have an emotional deficit. So I don't empathize with people (depending on the situation) like most.

I watch a lot of true crime documentaries. I'm a knowledge bank of most foreign and domestic serial killers dating back to the 17th century. And in a lot of these documentaries they interview the police, or FBI, or surviving victims/family members...and there's a common question that is asked by all of these people.

"How could they do this to someone?" Whatever this might be...and I always answer...easily enough. Because I can fathom why someone would and could and does the things they do to another. What I can't fathom is why, if they're going to do something like (serial) murder, they don't clean up the crime scenes. Or just not leave evidence. Why they, mostly, don't do it with intelligence.

There are a few that come to mind that got away with it for decades...or were never caught at all. I can understand the mind of a serial killer because my mind is wired in a similar fashion. Am I going to go serial kill? No. I want things in life that that lifestyle won't allow. But I understand. It isn't that hard for me to imagine the how and why and various reasoning. Beyond my understanding of the psychology behind the psychopathic mind, I live it. Every day I live it.

There are things though that are even beyond my capability to understand (beyond a psychological knowledge). Sex crimes and anything involving a child. Leave the kids out of it.

As I stated earlier, the lack of emotional response is both a blessing and a curse.

Once I'm done with a person or persons, I'm done. Depending on what the offense is, I do tend to give second chances. However, there are no third chances. If someone that has, by some chance, gained my trust, and then breaks it; the likelihood of someone doing what it takes to gain it back is slim. It has been done. And in my nearly thirty-six years on this earth, I can count the number of times it's happened on one hand. And it's less than five.

I am not the kind of person who gives away trust like candy. I'm naturally paranoid and I trust no one...mostly. And if it's gained and broken, well...more than likely that's the end.

And should that end occur there is no emotional outpouring of grief for that loss. I don't hold on to someone who is going to mistreat or take advantage of me or mine. I have no problem dropping someone over any infraction I feel is necessary to do so.

My philosophy is "miss the memories, not the person" and it suits me just fine.

I have found that people don't understand this line of thinking. I don't understand how they can't comprehend it. I don't understand societies obsession with having to run yourself ragged to try and please everyone else, to a point where they're miserable and self-sacrificing for someone else's opinion.

To hell with that. The only one you have to answer to when you lie down in bed at night is you. It's your life. Not your mother's or father's or aunt's or uncle's or a religious text.

Be happy in your life. Live and love how you want and fuck what anyone else has to say about it. They're not the ones keeping you warm at night. They're not the ones who really matter when it comes right down to it. You matter. And what you feel is right for your life matters. And that's it.

If someone does me wrong, bye Felicia. And I won't shed a tear.

Now, don't get me wrong here. I am fiercely loyal to those who have earned my loyalty. And for those few I will fight to protect with my words, my fists, or my body. I will protect a stranger I see being mistreated. A child.

But I've never cried at a funeral. I've never cried when someone I know/loved has died. It's not that I don't feel the loss, I just don't feel it the same way. (except pets)...

The curse of it all is...

When I want to release that emotional build-up...I can't. My brain will not send the signals to form tears.

As an actor, I can make myself cry on command in a scene where crying calls for it. However, in real life...in a situation where I actually want to cry...there's not a snowball's chance in hell that tears will fall.

There are times that, unless you know me well enough to know what to look for, I seem utterly lacking of any emotion. And maybe that's where that myth comes from. People can't read it in our expressions, and hiding is a natural thing.

But as they say...still waters run deep.

And you never know what may lurk beneath the surface.

With as loyal as I am...with as protective as I am...I can be just as cruel and vindictive. I have a long memory and tend not to forget the wrongs committed against me. And while I do not automatically resort to violence, I am a master a psychological warfare. I have no issues cutting someone down that's wronged me. I have no qualms being cruel and sadistic to someone I deem deserves it. I enjoy, when pushed to that mindset, the game. The cat and mouse game. Only I'm not chasing the mouse...the mouse is caught...and then it's the thrill of play before the final blow.

And when that final blow is delivered...

Well, I suppose that is different for everyone...