This Weekend's Socio Slip

It's what I call it when I have a day or a couple of days where it seems like everything I do reflects my sociopathic nature. I mean, I'm never NOT a sociopath, but I do try and steer myself out of socio activities. Not because I feel bad or feel guilt about them, but because I know it means I could wind up in trouble.

My work week ended with my patience worn thin and my internal beehive agitated. Before I left for the weekend, I took a risk at some quick revenge by licking the delivered food of a client we had. She'd been a bitch all night and when I saw the opportunity I took it. I was almost caught.
If I'd been caught, I would have easily been fired.
A couple seconds difference was all that separated me from clocking in Monday or standing in the unemployment line.

After that, I went a little too wild on the weekend. I don't know why, other than I know I was just feeling restless and needed some kind of excitement. At a coworker's birthday party, I wasted no time in getting... well, wasted. Luckily I had already double booked myself that night and had plans to meet up with my friends later.

Downtown, I drank more. I gave people who weren't my boyfriend flirtatious looks. I stole from the bar. I snuck into the gogo's changing room so I could see them fully nude, then dropped my drink on purpose when I was told to leave.

It isn't much. Nothing that others haven't done after having one too many. But for me and my personality, it's a murky path that often leads to far more risky and dangerous things.

LOVE

I am capable of love. I do love, every day.

I love being alive. I'm never suicidal or ungrateful for my life.

I love my dog. I love my family and friends. I love Las Vegas and New Orleans and Los Angeles. But I'd be lying if I say I love them all like anyone else might. Anyone “normal” that is.

I love my friends because they make me laugh and they're there for me when I care enough to be around people. I've invested time in them and consider it an accomplishment that I've approved of their being in my life. They have raunchy humor like I do, looser morals than most, are understanding of modern America and youth culture, and they're sarcastic and sometimes mean... I like that about them and like having people like that around me.

My friends are what I need when I'm so sick and tired of people that I need to vent outwardly about them to people I'm not sick and tired of. It's nice to have others to bitch about life and other people with.

I love my friends because they've invested time in me and we have, without words, made a pact to be there for one another until, if ever, our friendship runs its course. It's nice having a group of people by my side when I need them. And because I know that they're there for me, I in turn don't mind being there for them when they need me. Even I can understand that most things in life only come with some give and take.

When it comes to family, the same mostly applies. My family has a strong bond and places great value on always being there for one another, through good times and bad. I like that. It's comforting and reassuring.

I like the routine family brings too, to my otherwise unstable mind. I like the small holiday traditions and family reunions. I know what to expect from everyone and they of me. My family has either watched me grow or has grown with me, so to them I've never been any other way. They're accepting of who I am, even if I've never out-rightly stated that I'm a self-identifying sociopath.

I love my family because I know that they'll always give me shelter and food when I need it. I know that because of them, I'll never go without, and that knowledge also comforts me. It's selfish, yes, but the truth.

Of course, I just as easily consider most of these people as replaceable property. I don't expect most of my friendships to last forever and I know, by past experience, that I am capable of breaking ties with family. But that doesn't matter to me right now, because until those relationships break, they're mine.

She's my sister. My mother.

They're my friends, not yours.

I love them all, but from a very possessive and selfish perspective. They provide me with things like comfort, laughter, material goods, company, and excitement. I do my best to offer the same, out of respect, though I know I don't always.

Rereading now, I can see how it actually may not seem all that different from how anyone else might love. Most people can say that their family and friends comfort them and give them joy. Most people know their families will help them out in bad times.

Perhaps two sentences can make my stance more clear.

YOU: I love my mother because she's generous and warm and will always be there for me no matter what. She's the best mother anyone could ask for.

ME: I love my mother because I know what to expect from her; a constant safe space, help if needed, routine if desired, and because she's my warm and loving mother, not yours.

So yes, I do say I love you to certain people in my life, because I do. I may sometimes use them or feign interest in their lives, or I might actively not be there for them when I know they're going through a difficult time, but I do love them.

In my own way.