#pussyspit

its like a dark current. a frequency that responds to something greater than i. i feel it sometimes when i look at the moon... when i walk through the city after midnight.

animalistic. almost orgasmic. then it rests.

When you adapt. When you die. When you are reborn.

Being faceless. Creating the face.

You won't create anything substantial without assistance from beings much wiser than what humanity has to offer.

The one thing I know for sure, though, is that anyone who identifies in this way won't scratch the surface of their depth without being destroyed.

But that is a hidden gift. Over and over again, you will feel the pain of isolation. You will feel the depths of desolation and abandonment.

Release your fears and let go. Retreat into the forest alone. You will learn to respect the power of death and understand your affinity with it.

When the flames consume, you may be reduced to bones, but rise again as a skeleton. Not many people have the brain chemistry or capacity to handle or understand that.

ive lost many friends by over pruning, over watering, not tending to the soil, not watering enough

in the end i get something out of it, really. friendship, romance, money, opportunity, housing, advice, experiences

some withhold their fruits and i am obliged to respect that. perhaps i over-pruned them and they feel raw. maybe i used the wrong soil, had the wrong intentions

sometimes the fruit isn't for me, perhaps it's for someone else. i struggle with letting go. im like a spider and once i have you in my web i don't want to let you go.

ill wrap you tighter when you struggle, unknowingly suffocating you and absorbing you until you're just a shell of who you were.

the shell doesn't interest me. the life does. but i am predatory, and there are ways about me that i cannot hide from or pretend about.

emotional manipulation was a way for me to avoid accountability. "it can't be my fault when i have trauma"

the trauma is real. and i do feel emotions. it's just very different from what is typical, and I can't explain that without inadvertently avoiding responsibility.

finding out that i have psychopathic traits... it's confusing. i ask myself the same question nearly everyday.

its a reflex. like vomiting. i can't really stop once ive started, unless i've laughed it all out.

or if ive struggled long enough to hold it in. but it finds its way back up.

How am I a psychopath?

I wear masks. I don't fear being seen, but I know the consequences of it. I know what happens when I'm found out. The shunning, the abandonment, the resentment, the fear.

It makes my life more difficult.

Sometimes the mask becomes so close that I don't realize the manipulation. The lies I tell myself. The crying. The drama. The anger. The pessimism.

"I couldn't care less" isn't a strategy, it's the quality of my thought.

Still, I find myself trying to explain the phenomenon that is my experience of life to myself.

"I can't be a psychopath if children and animals love me"

Bargaining. I wonder how it could be so hard to accept the truth?

I think the truth can be hard to accept when you don't know how deep it goes.

Do I truly love? If the answer is no, then should I exist?

I don't feel guilty, it's just not objectively funny. But I laugh.

It's not funny. Still, I laugh. Ruminate for hours. Days. Why am I still smiling? Why is it still funny?

Leave it alone, I tell myself. I have to really exercise my mind. Use my discernment. Intelligence. Nothing about it makes me laugh afterwards.

I wonder if it's a mirror. A hurdle. Something for me to look at and decide what I want to do with. I feel mature.

Then I hear something. A log bounced off a tree and struck your cousin in the face. It sounded like a gunshot. He's bleeding everywhere.