For all the things surprisingly nice about psychopathy, there is one that makes it one of the most tragic things I can imagine. I have a histrionic personality disorder, I can’t empathize. I didn’t even know empathy is supposed to be a ubiquitous human trait. Other people being sad or happy doesn’t make me the same way, all my emotion have to come from within myself, I can’t draw them from others. At times this is great, be it work or something else pragmatic and contemptibly boring.
Yet, there is one thing I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do. I can not be in love with someone, I can love them, love them with whatever everything my mind is capable of, adds up to. I can have moments, even days, of knowing what’s it like to be in love with someone, to completely and totally submit everything that I am to another person, yet without that extrinsic fuel for love, I can’t hold it.
Love for me begins with that wonderful spark, that pinch right behind your eyes when you really see someone for the first time. That little kick that lets you know, this person is worth it, this person can make you more than you ever hoped, and you can be there for them until the end of you both, if you’re oh-so-very lucky. It smolders, cautiously like a fire in the wind, it seeks safety under the charred remains of past experiences. On the rarest of chances, once in my life, those burned pieces of my past became brittle and fell into the flame, it grew, it safely and beautifully burned, unlike any heat I’d ever knew was possible. The heat was my safety and my light, I fed it with all the fuel I could, and though I was careless and almost let it die a few times, I kept it alive. At it’s peak, for short periods of time I could find something within myself to make my beautiful, safe, little fire, a great towering spire of flame. It shot into the sky like a phoenix, a glimpse of the impossibly rare feeling that someone like that brings.
Yet as I said, no matter how I try, I can’t even begin to understand how to bring in more fuel from other people. It doesn’t matter how deeply wonderful they are, or what I have with them, my emotions are fragile and endangered, they can pass at a whim, almost overnight. My fire can die with a strong breeze, and I must fight and build everything I can to keep it burning. I’m human, maybe less than that even, so I must rest. I can’t fight and fight and fight, until my very being aches with effort and strain. My fire, no matter what heights it reaches, will always smolder to embers and be crushed by my defeated soul.
I’ve been at war with my own mind since before I even knew why, I think today is the day I give up.
Mutation and chance, you’ve won, I willingly surrender warmth and safety to you. I retreat to the cold and lonely land I burned trying to fight you. I retreat to this charred earth in my mind, devoid of any weapon I once had against you. I will not try again, for I see it is futile.
Tell them I tried, with all my mind could create, I tried.
I’m so very tired, and I’ve always been able to survive alone, no matter how much my mind tried to lure me back to this fight, I completely and wholeheartedly surrender to the Fates that brought this curse upon me via mutation and chance.
This is the absolute surrender of my mind: Psychopathy, you’ve won.
Try lifting all your weight
For a man
A man gone wrong.
Try wasting all your days
On a man
A man like me
- A Man Like Me
A Beulah song written by Miles Kurosky