i dont care what ppl think of me

Show me somebody that has said that (the title of this post) and I’ll show you a liar.

Everyone cares about others think about them. If you don’t, then you’re a legit sociopath.

In fact, concern for what other people think is the cornerstone of civilization. We wear the clothes we wear because of this. Observe and obey laws. We have fucking language because of this!

But people say these things because they want to shield off their empathy, and by wearing the “i dont care what people think” badge, they believe they’re fooling you. Yet clearly they do care, because they tell you all the time. Obviously they want you to think something about them.

Unfortunately the human psyche just can’t shut off its concern for others, and the ego can’t lock out its concern for what others think of it. Our whole sense of self is based upon our relations to others.

Of course I’m not saying that we should be paralyzed by fear over other’s opinions. Perhaps a more accurate statement would be “I am who I am”, and coming to terms with the fact that it’s impossible to please everybody.

I think that’s a more honest assessment.

tf is narcissism?

“Narcissistic personality disorder” is HOT right now. I think it’s surpassed “borderline personality disorder” as the cool thing to have.

In all seriousness though, I think there’s been a turn in the psychological community. “Pop psychology” has turned disorders into badges of honor, or an identity, to the point where individuals no longer concern themselves with improvement and instead use their “disorder” as an excuse to continue shitty behavior then expect society to deal with it.

Of course, I’m speaking from personal experience. Obviously I’m an insane person that’s maladapted to society and require the services of doctors and therapists to help me. That has been the case since I was a teenager. When I first started seeking medical attention for my behavioral ailments, psychiatrists and therapists were in a mad dash to “diagnose” me into a neat category. Now, 93 years later, they don’t give a shit about that. It doesn’t matter. They just want to make sure that I don’t jump into traffic whenever I’m out in the public. That’s the important thing.

Anyways, personal anecdote aside, I’m fascinated by narcissism and the nature of mental disorders. I won’t get into that because it’s a lot of armchair philosophizing on my part, but is the prevalence of “narcissism” and “narcissistic personality disorder” a reflection of societal shifts?

I reckon that “narcissism” and “narcissistic personality disorder” are not synonymous, but I do think they share a link with the rise of radical individualism and consumer culture.

I’m not a psychologist. Thank god. But I can say with near certainty that I’ve been blessed with having not one, but two people very close to me have NPD. Crazy people have a tendency to attract other crazy people. Go figure. (I may say more about this at another time)

One was charismatic and the other a complete fucking moron, but they shared this commonality: when most people have an interaction with somebody, say someone they just met, all sorts of assumptions are being made. Most of these assumptions, by both parties, are not expressed and are usually rationalized as being just ASSUMPTIONS. Nothing more. There’s a wall of rationality between perception and reality, and most people are good at distinguishing between the two. A narcissist, at least the ones I’ve met, don’t have that ability.

The narcissist’s perceptions get projected onto the reality at hand, and they’re not able to tell where their emotions end and where objective reality begins. In my instances, both individuals reacted harshly against being labeled a liar. It was obvious that they had difficulty with the truth, but in their mind, they weren’t lying.

What this has to do with society at large, I don’t know. It’s merely conjecture on my part.

No I will not explain further.

update

Bad news: the blog’s gone downhill and I’m powerless to do anything about it.

Good news: I’ve updated the website format.

As for the quality of content, sorry. I’ve been going through writer’s block since the beginning of September. Don’t know what to do about it. I’m gonna write till something hits. Maybe a change in format will polish this turd up.

So the shit posts will keep flowing. Oh well 🤷‍♂️

Freaky deaky Saturday II: ethics (or the worst sex scene you’ll ever read 😞)

Guys, I really am sorry about this story. Unfortunately, it’s only going to get worse from here 😭

I thought about Susan’s, as me, proposal.

But I didn’t want to suck a dick. Was it gay to suck your own dick? What if you’re currently a woman and suck a dick that belonged to you? But I was in a woman’s body that wasn’t my own. Was it wrong to suck a dick then? But what if you had permission, or in fact was forced, by the rightful owner of that body to suck a dick that belonged to you? Was THAT gay?

“I suggest a counter proposal,” I said to Susan. “I’ll agree to your terms IF, if, in addition to sucking your dick (that is, in fact, MY dick) you eat my pussy (that is, in fact, YOUR pussy).”

Susan, in my body, thought for a moment. “Fuck it, why not?” (s)he responded.

We both stripped down. Susan’s body that I occupied was a toned work of art. Meanwhile, Susan (in my body) removed her clothing, revealing a disgusting, hairy, and flabby body.

“So this is what it’s like to have an erection,” (s)he said.

“For fuck sake, let’s get this over with,” I replied.

I, being the woman this time, climbed on top while Susan, the man, laid beneath me. I placed this exquisite looking vagina onto Susan’s face while I shoved this pathetic penis into my mouth.

Honestly—getting your pussy eaten—pretty good experience. Almost made me forget that I was blowing myself.

“I’m about to come,” Susan, as a man, screamed.

Oh shit, I thought. I wasn’t prepared to swallow semen.

“I wanna bust in that pussy (that is, in fact, MY pussy),” she said.

Relieved, I stood up and (s)he bent me over the couch and shoved in the full 4.5 inches. At first, it occurred to me that size indeed DOES NOT matter.

“Damn it!” Susan yelled. “Your dick sucks!”

Nevermind then.

(S)he started to speed up until finally pulling out and blowing semen in between my butt cheeks.

“Gotta say,” Susan said, “it’s better to orgasm as woman.”

I laid down on the couch and covered my naked body. Was it worth it? Sure, I rationalized to myself. Too bad I didn’t come though.

After Susan washed up, she put on a suit and tie. She made me look the best I ever looked.

“Alright,” (s)he said, “let’s go find that warlock.”

TO BE CONTINUED

breathing is underrated 2

Now I do have to breathe like everyone else

But I walk around with a mask and oxygen tank.

I don’t breathe the same fart-tinged air that you all do. That’s disgusting.

But there ain’t nothing that a deep breath can’t fix.

Pissed off in traffic? Take a deep breath.

Standing at the ATM when someone puts a .22 to your back? Breathing can fix that.

Got an itchy trigger finger in Home Depot and want to take your frustrations at the world out on yourself or others? Just breathe.

Everything will be alright.

If things get REALLY bad, just shut the garage door, turn on the car, then sit back and relax 😀

So calm down, chill, be cool 😎

sleep is underrated

Of course, I’ve never slept before.

But YOU should sleep more.

It’s really the only thing worth living for.

(I seriously wasn’t trying to rhyme there)

Think about it: you don’t have to do anything. Just lay there.

Why it’s so hard for people to do, I’ll never understand. There’s probably something wrong with you tbh.

It’s like we’re so conditioned to do something all the time. Fuck that noise. When you get an opportunity to do nothing, take it you freak!

“😭 But I can’t sleep! I always got something on my mind 😭”

That’s called having a brain dumbass. Everybody’s got one. And your brain don’t work because you don’t sleep.

So let me help you.

Ever tried having a pill addiction?

Problem solved!

midlife crisis

I ain’t gonna lie.

I did exactly what I wanted to do for nine straight years: drink in excess.

So it’s hard for me to say that I regret nearly a decade of my life. There were some great fucking times.

But were there regrets? Situations I could’ve handled better? People I could’ve been nicer to?

Oh yeah! You bet!

The truth is, where I came from, I overstayed my welcome. A good friend told me, for my own well-being, that he better not see my face in these bars ever again.

He meant it.

I never returned. Never spoke with him again.

Some things are meant to be forgotten.

But I can’t help but think: do all my old friends hate me? Do they think about me as much as I think about them?

I suppose that we all separated for the better. It just nags me that there are those I spent years with, whose lives instantly got better once when I left.

Of course my life got better too when I left them.

Maybe I’m just overstating my self importance.

Maybe it’s hard for me to accept that time is gaining on me.