Sociopath Community

It seems to melodramatic but it’s really not. But I’m just documenting everything because I don’t know what else to do man. 

I am trying my best to scrub it all away with good habits and, and bearing it... until Things improve. Just going through the motions and, trying to look and sound like my normal self. Smile. Etc. 

Because it’ll all go away soon enough right. 

But, for now it’s like the wind got knocked out of me. And, the more I think about , what it feels like, the more overwhelming I become with it, and my thoughts, about my life. 

And I feel so selfish, for being so inward when, that’s how life shouldn’t be. You know. I shouldn’t be focused this way, but. Ignoring it doesn’t make it better either. 

it’s still there regardless of what moral high ground I stand on or, how right or wrong I do things. There’s nothing that can fulfill it, not even the people and things I love most.

thenmore I thought about it while I was showering just now, thenmore this aggravating dull pain grew in my chest. Describing it in my head to you, as I would write it soon after. 

“I don’t normally cry often, except when I am depressed. it feels like small pangs of sadness that are dull and brief as one second. And then I wipe it away.” 

continue on. 

But now the pain builds like an ache in my chest, and though I want to cry to relieve it, I cannot. 

It is either pain or, the other feelings that make sense to be decrypting of depression. Which I don’t feel like putting into words right now. 

it’s annoying, I know and if I could shew it away I would. 

the harder I try to pretend everything is normal the more it sort of hurts. 

I don’t what I want or need to fix this, and I feel helplessness but. I am trying to ignore it... the sadness is just overwhelming. The lack of interest in the things I usually love is overwhelming. 

and... it makes me desire drifting toward, bad habits, anything to escape the bull shit but I know ultimately that’s, stupid.

it’s just hard to resist when you lose sight of the point, or if any aim in your life so quickly like you just exhaled it one day by mistake. And then it’s gone and, suddenly you’re not yourself. 

it all sounds depressing because it is, depression. Do I want a cure? Of course. 

Do I know what the fuck to do about it? Fuck no.

-.- anyways, got that off my stupid fucking chest I’m going to drink coffee and... watch shit trying to get in a different head space. 

im tired so, like I’m just going to relax. I like watching true crime :/ I know you’d think it’d be the wrong thing to watch but I need something exciting and unpredictable so I can distract from feeling so shitty and blank, empty. Etc. 

Maybe when the better weather comes I’ll feel better. Like maybe I just need sunshine?? I dunno. 

maybe I’ll wake up feeling better later. 

I still love my dog he brings me joy still, though it is small that is something. 

and I submerged myself in ice cold pool and that felt really good. With the wind and everything. I like doing this when I’m depressed something about ice water, weather drinking it or dunking my entire face in it, or running it over my feet it feels very soothing when you are so.... numb and feel so, unclean. 

hard to explain but depression is almost a dirty feeling like you feel like trash. So the cleansing feeling of ice cold water and the shock to the skin really, helps. Stimulation to wake you up like, your actual brain, needs a push... it wasn’t enough to totally get my entire motor started though... 

nothing is

God it’s so frustrating 

I am too bothered to clearly write about the fucking things that are bothering me but 

I should probably go to sleep. 

I just feel so frustrated like... a rubber band about to break. 

ive come to this sort of breaking point before and... it wasn’t good the events that followed after ward. So that’s, giving me a worrying feeling in the pit of my stomach. 

I can just feel it and sense it coming like, I know somethings really not right and, I just can’t take it anymore. 

I want to burst into tears because. My family’s a wreck and my life’s been difficult, and my head, is such a war zone to live in. It’s so confusing and there’s been so much torment I just, really fucking need to turn it all off and make it stop because it’s just sickening. It’s actually driving me absolutely mad I don’t think it’ll ever stop until I’ve gone completely insane. More so than I already have. 

ive watched my mental health deteriorate over the years while telling myself it’ll get better it’ll get better it’ll get better but it’ hasn’t, I’ve just literally fallen apart mentally like wet paper in water just desentegrarinf off and fading away in places I can never get back 

it all sounds very emotional and futulistic but I do have hope I can maybe achieve some sort of normalcy again but this, I have to be honest, I don’t think this is it 

I’ve been pacifying it like buying myself time, living, stewing in this mess and sort of making it all okay. But the truth is it’s not okay. 

ive been monitoring myself in these journals long enough to know. I have a tendency to sort of just check out and forget about all of this stuff because it can get to be too much sometimes 

but it always inevitably does become visible one way or another and the symptoms linger inside me like a ghost with no face and no head 

I want to.... fix, myself. But like, maybe at a certain point I just have to accept this is what I’m left with and be grateful for it like maybe this much of an improvement is as good as it gets 

I just.... I don’t know if I can keep living like this if that’s the case. It’s not that I don’t want to but, I feel so out of control I know, inevitably it will get too heavy and one day I’ll probably do something. If this continues on like this. 

the sudden jarring lows are really taking their toll as they come and go like they please. 

snd nothing around me gets any better or any more stable. If anything it’s just more and more anxiety inducing.... 

I feel like, I’ve truly just gone crazy. Trying to, survive, my circumstances. Like it’s acruelly physiologically, metabolically, and neurologically, psychologically changed me, to be, essentially sick 

that’s fucking ptsd for you and I’m so goddamn sick of it 

just as sick as you are of me complaining. I know wiping me off the face of the earth seems like such a brilliant solution but first of all I don’t believe in it and second of all 

I’ve tasted death before and if it’s anything like what I experienced the first time then, dying, doesn’t solve your problems. Your soul does live on and will carry with you your consciousness. there’s no escaping it or getting rid of it like, it carries it with you. Everything. Yeah. 

dying actually sucks even more because then you can never see your family again. Like I could see them but they couldn’t see me, ya know. I could see everything but I couldn’t participate and experience it with the five senses. 

So yeah it’s not... ideal honestly it feels a bit like being trapped and you feel lucky to of had this body and this time to experience the world with. 

but that’s beside the point. Dying isn’t the solution here, and I know all of these problems seem petty but. 

im trying to just like resolve, my issues, and sometimes venting out my thoughts is part of that stupid lengthy process 

I really don’t know how this works and what I’m doing obvious like I don’t know how to make it better but I am just trying to do something 

ya know. Even if it’s only realistically finding temporary relief. 

I am so exhausted from... the constant flash backs. 

I can’t do anything or even watch a show... without it. Happening and... I’m tired bruh. tired of that. 

just wanna live my life. And, I’m tired of feeling so on edge all the time. 

I’m just tired of all the bull shit that comes with my fucking diagnoses and I just want to feel ducking normal in my fucking body for one fucking minute 

like I literally can’t fucking relax it’s,.... yeah 

it’s not a good feeling man. 

this is why ptsd and substance abuse go so hand in hand. There’s so much stacked up against you it’s not even funny. 

and I just wanna fucking live a normal goddamn life but maybe I just have to accept this is never going to be normal 

I thought this morning I was anxious about relapsing but then I realized really it’s not anxiousness, it’s anger. And then I am trying to suppress that anger subconsciously as a bad habit. Engrained in me from many years of living this way. 

And not letting it out is what is causing me to be so restless and causes the feeling of wanting to suppress it with drugs and alcohol. 

and then the worry that I would relapse is what causes the anxiety. 

Emotions come in layers like a cake there is more to the root cause 

the depression does come from stress but it also comes from living this way of suppressing myself entirely 

ive understood that aspect a long time, But it’s more complicated than that because then I start to argue with myself over that point, because I’ve been so engrained to believe that whatever I am is not the right way it’s only what they say is the right way. That I have a hard time even accosting what I am is okay. 

And on top of that there is denial like a refusal to accept because I know what being myself implicates. And I am I guess scared of the repercussions in some way. 

— 

anywau yeah I’m just very over this and like frustrated isn’t the word for it but just, like. Fucking done with this fucking drama that never fucking ends. Like I want to rest I want it to be over I am tired and cant do it anymore 

it’s making me sick like 

to constantly pretend im someone im no for the sake of their happiness 

but uh, I’m so fucked up from how I was raised you have no idea... and ige Never fully healed from that idk how. It’s confusing... because if I am supposed to be some healthier better version of myself had I not been abused, I feel like this person I am is not the real me and.... the person I was supposed to be is. So I get busy being the person I was supposed to be but it doesn’t work 

becuase of the ways in which I am fucked up like I said, it fucks with me in a way that debilitates me, my mental health, etc. I try not to let it hold me back but it inevitably does 

because that’s just how mental illness works. Like, it fucks with you. 

and I’m, aware of how it’s fucked with me and I try to not let it get To me but like I can’t just ignore the pain. Even if I am not letting all the other bull shit of mental illness confuse me, and I am white knuckling just to keep my head on straight and think clearly (harder to do than you think)... um... I still can’t just, fully slip into pure denial and ignore all of it all the time 

it still gets to you and I have to deal with that on my own and it is hard 

it’s so much easier to just escape or, pretend it doesn’t exist pretend it doesn’t bother you. 

but the truth is like I have shit to work out and I really don’t know how I don’t know how to make it better in my head or make it stop and I don’t know how to be less confused and conflicted and I have issues like 

and I see myself in such negative light sometimes like 

just this constant self beating up and self loathing and for what but I can’t stop like 

anyway... I was thinking about my aunt this morning. She has a problem with pills and alcohol. 

but, she was the first person to ever show me true tender love and kindness in my entire family, in the face of like, bad times. 

and... it was just once. But I remember it because it made me actually feel loved and cared for for the first time in my life. Properly. The way it should be. 

And the hug actually meant something because she fucking respected me even if she didn’t understand she fucking... treated me like a human being 

And I just... I forget sometimes that, that is what is missing from my life and I’ve been depraved of it for a long time. In the relationship with my parents. 

I get so used to it the way it is, it becomes normal I forget what’s missing. And you get used to it and start to blame yourself for all that’s wrong with you 

while missing the glaringly obvious that, hey maybe you wouldn’t be this way if someone listened. If someone cared. If someone showed a shred of respect. Or love. 

Haha.... I’m not complaining I’m just, I have to remind myself constantly that this is my situation because I get lost. I forget. And then I wonder what’s wrong with me 

It’s not just because of what they did, it’s because of what they didn’t do. 

there is more to an abusive relationship then just bruises and Physical contact. Psychologically. There is a lot more at play. And under years of that kind of duress it can break a person. 

i... have... to stop stressing myself to be the better me... and just let myself heal and just be. It’s hard to stop, doing that. It’s really hard for me to stop. But I really need to make the fort to stop trying to be the me that wasn’t abused. 

its... that’s not real... I just need to be myself for a while 

I need to like... get somewhere I can do that. As well. 

proboem is I don’t know who myself really is I’m still confused but 

idk I’ll work on this maybe with a counselor because I mean 

idk what I’m doing I need help but 

it’s not to be a better version of myself or “fix me” 

it’s just to work through some things that torment me 

problem is I can’t see them in person which absolutely sucks dick balls I really hate doing online calls 

and I’ve never found a therapist I found really understood what the fuck I’m going through here 

so.... yeah it doesn’t work but if someone is there who actually understands that would help 

They assume they know what it’s like without asking what it’s like 

This is the place where I’m allowed to shed the weight of my grievances 

all my life i never allowed myself to feel any of my own pain, and now i struggle to allow myself the room to do that. And feel i don’t have a place to put it, where it is safe. 

When i put it here, it allows me to openly express... things that, i felt people in my life would judge me for. And i didn’t want that judgement, i wanted acceptance. 

It allowed whatever i was going through to remain under the surface and tucked away, while still, seeing the light of the day for the first time. I was in a lot of denial that, any of this even mattered. That i had any feelings about it was unbeknownst to me. 

For a long time i totally forgot it happened. 

It took a really long time to accept this as real. And when i put it here, it didn’t have to be real, because blanc wasn’t real. Even though, it was. And she is. I’m, blanc. 

But, when i was unable to sort of merge that, trauma with reality and accept it as fully real. Putting it in its place, it allowed me to talk about it. Because it wasn’t fully real yet if i harbored it here in this... strange sort of limbo. 

It’s like, “ah yeah, I see this coming to light. And instead of letting it get to the surface, I’m just going to do whatever i can to keep this under wraps.” 

I have a huge problem with denial and i am tangled up in my own confusions. As my brain is so twisted around itself, with unhealthy thought patterns and, things that shouldn’t be there. 

But this is just my reality and... I’m, trying to accept it. You know. And its like, integrating. 

For a long time it’s like i would live this way where i was, on the surface someone else, and sort of become blind to any sort of trauma and all the things i wrote about here. Dislocated.

and that’s just how i functioned. But um, i dont think i can continue to do that, and like, properly, get on. You know 

I think it holds you back from healing to remain subjugated to, this divide of consciousness and. The constant sparring, between wits. 

Less and less with time, have i been able to completely forget, all of it. And i think that is what I’ve been trying to do here. To help myself do that. But gradually. And tenderly. Let myself talk, and then slowly integrate and accept these things, truly. As real. 

Because they just don’t feel that way at first, it takes a long time for it to feel fully real. 

And i also, didn’t feel real, in myself and, this was the safe place for me where i needed to let myself open up and explore the world as me. My true self. I had no place to do that, without fear of... repercussion. 

Lately I’ve been seeing, you know... There is this person that’s, in there. That person is me. And... i stuffed it down to please others. It’s not just about being gay, it’s, everything. And this has come from the strict up bringing and the volatility that came with it, as punishment for not. Carefully, crossing my t’s and dotting my i’s. Everything had to be a certain way or, my parents would not, love me. 

But then, i realized, they never did, show me this love. Not, in the way in which I wish they could have done. That doesn’t mean they do not love me currently. They just, didn’t show it in my childhood in the way I realize now, is lacking. 

I’ve gone through a lot, it’s not just, my parents. There’s been a lot stacked on. And I think I needed this, “self”... to come to light, here, on SC to become my strength in times where I was alone in what I was going through. 

I came here to find I wasn’t alone and instead found myself as my own strength. 

That’s what I mean when I say these journals aren’t about complaining. I’m doing something here, but you just might not understand it. 

And at the same time, I am art. 

I need art as my survival, sometimes. And, that’s just an old habit I developed when I was very very young. 

It’s always been there, and creativity is my means of coping. 

I use my own life as inspiration, for it. But, the creation of the art is what is important to me. 

It’s not an effort to complain. It’s an effort to create something, and in that, that is, healing for me. 

The songs, the writing, whatever it be. It’s just, it helps. I am touching my own soul and by recognizing it, appeasing, the isolation i feel in my ‘struggles’ whatever they may be. 

There is redemption in music, that your soul, jumps out at, or, when you feel it has touched a part of you that, no one could ever see. But you know it’s there. There is connection in that. Human connection. 

Like when people listen to the blues. It soothes their soul, why do you think that is.

Music is the language of the soul, and, the connection, that I make with it. It makes, the effort of creating it, worth it. It’s what drives me to do it. And same with the writing as well. 

I was scared, I did not knwo what to be or who to be. So I just let myself be art and that was comfortable for me in times where I just wanted to melt into the walls and disappear. So now it’s a comfort zone. The journals, the music, etc. 

it’s self discovery, it’s connection, it’s, catharsis, it’s creating comfort in a life that is not possible to be comfortable with 

i am so walled up, and have been this way for so long... like i never let myself cry. As a child, about these things. And that bad habit continued. And... still, to this day, i cannot cry to myself about the things i have been through. But there is still pain, and other feelings which cannot escape. 

So this is, how i cry. If that makes sense. 

When i speak it out loud and in person, it’s too sickening, and the panic is too overwhelming, i can’t get very far. So this was safer to me. When i wanted to just say it somewhere, but let it remain buried and hidden. It’s easier to write about it than it is to say it verbally to someone. Much easier. 

There is great discomfort in the things i have gone through and i have to deal with that discomfort so this is how. I pacify that discomfort. Otherwise it’s torment. This is how I get it to fucking stop hurting, to leave me alone and fly off my head like a bird that’d made a nest. This is how i air out my fucking nasty hot steaming pile of shit that someone took on my porch. 

Hahahah 

you have to be in a great deal of pain to be driven to write the amount i do, in words and in, music. It’s, a possession. Not just, passively sitting here like, “ah yeah, think I’ll write 9 pages today.” 

What do you think drives a person to that level of insanity where they must type and type and type. It’s pain, it’s anxiety, it’s discomfort. And this is their cure for it. 

None of the things that have happened to me feel real. (Again). 

I can be perfectly happy getting on, one day and then the next, not so much. Spiral into, a form of depression that mutilates the soul, wrecks havoc on, ones psyche and their life. As it were. 

Just when i think I can’t take it anymore I switch gears and all the stuff that was bothering me goes away for the most part, to a slightly more manageable level 

I don’t know why I am so angry either I mean I suppose I have an idea but 

like it’s always on a low boil and around my parents it gets much worse 

And this anger turns to apathy when I am alone and I never say out right I hate myself but the self contempt becomes obvious in the display of patterns, of isolation and, other benign or maiglnant habits. Reactionary to emotional circumstance 

It’s not the kind of life someone who loves themselves leads 

The bad things that have happened to me and the bad thoughts linger inside me like ghosts 

when I’m zoning out staring into space this is where I am 

in the hollow cavity of my chest 

feeling their whispers like cold wind chilling my bones 

It’s there whether I’m well or not