I’m a narc or pwNpd or whatever. After my ex girlfriend’s parents tried to ward me off with various spells and ointments I understand more and more of my patterns how much I don’t want to live with it. I am more moody than I am ‘cold’ I am not so cold as much as I struggle wifh empathy: other people’s sickness, surrounded death, fatigue, insecurity, ill-treatment, whatnot, I do what I can and I am supposed to do but no I am mostly grey and void of warmth. Sometimes loneliness in others moves me I am sad by it but maybe because I see my reflection in their eyes. Much of winter this year I am empty because I am not warm, because I am needlessly needy; I don’t like the company of most because I don’t like to move a finger, or talk, friendship conversation and community are for other people, for me pointless, revealing nothing. Falling asleep with people around, staying up alone. Deriving most *feeling* thru flesh, food, seldomly entertainment, consisting of shock, like an ape, chimpanzee, or cat in a hat. Which is fine. I still feel like a mother sometimes, maybe I’m just depressed, can’t sleep at night, sleep through day, no real sunlight. I can’t be the only disordered one who wants to feel the good shit, the real good shit, that hippie shit, not just obsession, not just nostalgia, not just compartmentalization, not just bleakness, not just dopamine off the pornographic orgasm, not just anger, certainly not selfpity… tho none of those are bad, nothing is good or bad, they all deserve their place. I quit weed cold turkey, avoiding quitting other things I’m really addicted to.
These days I’m too grey for even sadness, which is blue, blue is beautiful. Indifferent to both insult and flattery, Happiness is a con-job, there isn’t anything anyone can do except me, I gotta step my pussy up, that’s it. Here goes pilates, sleeping before 5am, waking up around noon, vegetables, outdoor, activity, socialization, sex without porn, neutral media, reading, reading without violence, home cooking, real meals, encouragement, art shit , exhibitions, plans of future, Chinatown, light behind the eyes, walking around, holding hands, responding to aimless conversation , when she wanna talk about sunglasses, or tights or whatever, sweet nothings, ‘dating’, lame shit, normal girlfriend shit, even tho I’m a psycho. ,,,. somehow I’m still giddy, everything is funny, no panic attacks, no explosion, no complaints, disengaging the bomb, write well, when I’ve nothing to offer, I still have written words
titsay
theartofmadeline
jbbartram-illu
turnnoffyourmind
