What is it in a diagnosis? Names attached to disorders or “malfunctions”, or defects, or chemical imbalances. Okay so something is clearly wrong with me. I suppose when I first noticed was around 6 or 7 when I lost my temper and jumped from the balcony on top of my sister and began to pound her head onto the ice. (She was relatively alright by the way.) Unlike someone who blacks out and doesn’t recall, different then seeing red. It was me, and I am not alright.
When facing inner demons, many have faced rage, temper, and otherwise, but few had my type managed. If it was, generally it is under the guise of justice and imprisonment. Sometimes I think that is where I belong. Sometimes I don’t. The truth is that I had to discover my self. I was forced to face who I was and what I believe. My convictions tested, daily, by the face of religious beliefs that were forced. I couldn’t go to school without attending church. Ultimately, I would end up being kicked out of the house and, in a regard, abandoned by family because of my choices, and because I was different.
What I did, while I was homeless, I don’t like to discuss, and much of it you will never know. Nor should you. Though I was then tested for what I would do to survive. How far would I go to survive? What resources, what ability? Lose everything you own, only enough for a backpack. Face fears, break the soul, humble and beg, fight and bleed, pain and loss, misery and despair were my companions. I found betrayals and I have found some amazing and unbelievable things. I must say that no matter what in the end, I will have a life lived. And I am only 34.
I have broken myself apart psychologically, making something from the mess, understanding what I was. Even still I find it difficult to understand myself among the “Civilized” world. As the “Civilized” world seems to not welcome me. I have gained so many skills at hiding my nature, at disguising my thoughts, and words. What am I hiding? I confess, I am extremely violent. Very, and violence enters my mind more than sex. (My other passion – but never mixed.) I enjoy the thoughts, and they are natural to me. I have not harmed small animals, or children, or women. I find it distasteful, and deplorable, I do have my own moral codes. Bent as they may be.
I am friends with Death, and it with me. I don’t feel remorse for those who haunt me. I just am haunted. Everything has a price. I have tried for all my life, to understand what I was, to manage myself like with an itemized checklist, old habits die hard, and for what ever reason, I am as I am. I may see and understand some of you, you may even believe you understand me. But you don’t, you won’t. There is no amount of words, no understanding to gain, because what you think you know. Is only a tip of the iceberg.