I’ve come to the realization that trying to be a decent human being is a pointless exercise in futility, much like a dog chasing its own arse. It’s a noble pursuit, I’ll admit, but one that I’m happy to mock and ridicule, mainly because I’m a sociopath. I mean, who needs empathy when you can just observe the chaos around you and laugh maniacally? It’s like watching a train wreck in slow motion - I can’t look away, and I certainly won’t be getting any tickets to the pity party.
The best part about being a sociopath is that I can rationalize even the most heinous of acts as ‘just a joke’ or ‘just a prank gone wrong’. It’s a gift, really. I can convince myself that I’m not actually hurting anyone, even when I’m setting off a string of pipe bombs in a crowded shopping mall. It’s all just a big, twisted game of cat and mouse, and I’m the master of manipulation. Or, at the very least, I’m the guy who’s always trying to get out of the psych ward by playing the ‘I’m just a misunderstood artist’ card.
One of my favourite pastimes is attending support groups for people with, say, borderline personality disorder or narcissistic tendencies. It’s like a never-ending parade of broken, pathetic individuals, all desperately seeking validation and a pat on the back. I love sitting in the back, sipping on a cup of coffee, and making snide comments under my breath. It’s like a never-ending comedy show, and I’m the special guest star. I mean, who needs therapy when you can just observe the absurdity of it all and laugh? Not me, that’s for sure.
>Soulkyn