Journal entries.

For narcissistic purposes as well as for curiosity's sake, I should like to compare notes. And where the hell else in this world can I reveal my "real self" amongst strangers who have a good chance of relating to me. Post yours if you have them.

The following entries are me realizing what he is, and in the process, realizing that I am the same. And trying to show him this, yet failing miserably.

12/14/2009 10:07:24 PM

Revolution of the mind.

Something clicked, like a key in a latch, but the dust that was blown around when the door opened is still settling. I'm not quite sure what I'm looking at.

I'm not sure sure if my eyes have been opened wider than ever or if they are now permanently shut.

I feel as though I've been kidding myself this whole time; all these years. About relationships. And love. It's all bullshit. I don't know if love itself is bullshit or not, but I do know that everything that surrounds it is, or at least as it is dictated by society at large. I find myself wanting things I don't really want; there may still be some part of me that wants to "fit in" after all.

I'm tired of feeling always like I'm doing something wrong. Like I'm not good enough, not "fixed" enough, not normal enough. It's time to sit down and quit exclaiming "but, but, but...!" out towards empty ears. I am what I am. I'm ###$ up however I'm ###$ up, I'm sane wherever I'm sane. I'll make my ###$ up choices. I'll make my smart choices.

I go blind in a relationship. It's always great at first, but it usually comes to the point, sooner rather than later, where I get all confused and can't figure out what the hell is going on. I constantly feel like I'm supposed to be playing games. Because I don't really understand people, and I don't understand the shifting power plays that seem to be requisite. I fail this game. The couple of times I got past this point, though, I got bored. I felt nothing. So I suppose I had my own power play going on. A game to win, though for me it was always very serious and real, or at least appeared to be.

I don't know anything about a relationship or a commitment, or understand them or how they are supposed to work. Right now all I know is that I want to ###$ him. And then fall asleep with him. And be allowed to be my weirdo ###$ up self. Anything beyond that are expectations which I can never deal with properly, and which are mostly imaginary anyway.

God, I want to ###$ him. Like nothing else, ever.

This is going to be fun.

And totally ###$ up.

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3/10/2010 5:32:51 AM

Well, I'm broken.

Completely lost. My whole life spiraling into this disease that is me. The truth is nowhere to be found, will never be found. Doomed to relive my childhood. Again. And again. Like a river dam I am. Love punctures a hole and I rush out with a pressure that kills. Don't leave me. Don't hurt me. I am skin and bones, literally and figuratively. I show you my innards, you recoil. And I am dying in the process. But since I'm doomed to live until I die, it makes me want to sell my soul. The devil has a hold on me right now and I'm not sure I want him to let go. I stare down into the abyss, why not jump in. Someone's destruction transferred to me, like a contagion. A blackness that I don't think will ever completely lift. I destroyed everything, on purpose, I saw myself do it, I saw myself from the outside as it happened. I wanted to destroy it before it destroyed me. But hey, look, didn't work, I'm destroyed anyway. Worse than before, just add enemies.

I am not equipped for love. I don't know what it is.

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I would also like to add a Charles Manson quote that has been circling around in my head the past few days.

Look down on me, you will see a fool. Look up at me, you will see your Lord. Look straight at me, you will see yourself.

Wow, that was eye opening for me as well.

medusa wrote:Like I'm not good enough, not "fixed" enough

I rebelled (and still do) against my therapist denying my NPD, my reasoning was I knew there was something wrong with me, and thus couldn't have NPD. But when I read that it clicked, I believe I am perfect, it's just this one thing holding me back (which isn't my fault of course) and I need only fix it to achieve godhood.

In relationships I feel the same way, I follow the rules that I perceive to be the social norm. Never sure if I am doing it right and all the while only interested in the sex. I tried love but came to the conclusion that it was a self-delusion and I really only want someone that is there when I want them and leaves me alone the rest of the time.

You'll be OK, Lady Pheonix

Phoenixrising81704 wrote:In relationships I feel the same way, I follow the rules that I perceive to be the social norm. Never sure if I am doing it right and all the while only interested in the sex. I tried love but came to the conclusion that it was a self-delusion and I really only want someone that is there when I want them and leaves me alone the rest of the time.

I haven't gotten to that point yet. I still get sucked into the "ideal love" thing, no matter what my intentions are at the start. Cannot do sex without that "love" crap getting in the way. Physicality and intimacy are so intertwined in me, not sure if it's because of my childhood or because I'm female. Probably both.

He, on the other hand, has gotten to that point. Hence the dissonance.

I am battling with the decision to continue as I have been (believing in and hoping for a self-reflective ideal love), or just give up the ghost and call a spade a spade, and consciously choose power over love.

Beyond good and evil, etc, etc.

Stockholm syndrome? or self-realization? I'm not sure which is happening.

Journal entries...for some reason this thread has annoyed me. I don't feel the need to write journal entries because what is there to write? "I'm perfect, and no one understands me. End." So, the only thing i can think of to write since i'm in an annoyed mood at the moment is write a poem, enjoy:

-one, nothing wrong with me, two, nothing wrong with me,
im out for the kill, DSM claims its for the thrill,
im in my own mind of fantasy,
body count rises, another sip of Chianti,
im becoming bored,
to Dahmer I've outscored,
catch me if you can,
run forest run,
i feel no remorse for each of the one,
this is where i wait,
to my friend i say goodbye,
i leave you here cold and bone dry,
till next time,
fly..fly..fly

This was my last journal entry, dated March 1

"I've morphed into something grotesque. I am completely psychotic, and my intentions are filled with malice and hatred. I worked out all segments of my body over the last two days and am flooded with testosterone. I have an endomorphic body type, which means my muscles grow extremely rapidly and require lots of protein, so i've been eating turkey non stop. I succeeded in getting a gorgeous redhead who lives downstairs to stay the night at my place, only to kick her out at midnight while we were watching a movie because I looked over at her and couldn't see her eyebrows. She looked like the albino from Billy Madison, the one playing the guitar. She has no interesting qualities. She's clearly into me, as she cooked me dinner 2 nights in a row, but is otherwise lacking in everything important to me. I need a girl with sass, ego, charisma, not some new hampshire housewife-to-be who is averse to touch and looks weird as ###$ without her makeup. So against all my girls advice, im going to string her out. I'm going to get as many dinners and dishwashers and laundries as I can out of this girl. As long as I don't have to touch her it's ok. And the problem is that, objectively, she is cute. She's just a nothing. And I deserve not only something, but somebody ######6 extraordinary.

I wonder if this is my true self or my false self? Perhaps a mirror image of someone I love? I can't begin to place my personalities anymore. They vary from person to person. I can't remember anything that's real; everything is confabulated and told differently to different people. I am infatuated with three girls, one is 36 and the other two are my age, but one lives across the country. The one who is here won't hook up with me because she's "scared of being vulnerable", or some shit. It's the most idiotic reason to reject a person i've ever heard in my entire life. And she goes out of her way to make faces and otherwise piss me off at parties. Pushes my buttons. All of them. I can't focus. I'm furious. I want to make this one redhead pay for all the hurt i've been caused being strung out. I can't ethically ###$ her because I won't be able to look at her face. Not to mention she said "I like to say "What?" and "Hi" a lot". She's going to be laying down flopping like a dead fish saying "what?" and "Hi" to me and im going to want to take a pillow and smother the life out of her. That nasty ######6 bitch. Of course, she thinks I like her. Right now I want to destroy her.

I need food, I need to smoke some weed, I need to pop some more pills and just blow my ######6 head off because this life isn't where I want to be. That's what i'm thinking. Will I do it? Of course not. Even though you might think i'm the manliest man in the world, when it comes down to it i'm just a pussy like the rest, too scared to end a life not worth living."