I’ve asked myself what it is, and I guess it\u2019s more a kind of darkness. There was enough distraction when I was younger and preoccupied in the establishment of a life, that I was able to ignore it, with situational exceptions. Other proclivities like sex and alcohol sometimes made it feel like there wasn\u2019t even anything to worry about. What I\u2019ve come to learn is that unhealthy sexual shenanigans (if they even exist; I vacillate), or alcohol, or sometimes drugs, were not in and of themselves the disease, but were, in fact, the telling symptoms of something far more dangerous that was just waiting for me with its gangrenous soul, and cold, cold heart. But, oh so pretty to look at.<\/p>\n
I guess my misguided attempts to always live in full color at high speed with no filter, and in possession of a ferocious, single-minded intensity I sometimes used as a means to those ends, my life became double-edged, semi-charmed, and, more and more, self-destructive. But I can also say that I\u2019ve been to more cities than I can count on Trip Advisor (500+), know more about the subtle nuances of the human condition than I had previously thought was possible, felt deeper feelings (good and bad) than anyone I know not suffering with a serious mental illness, and been in situations that I know most people will never see, want to visit, or even believe exist. (I can\u2019t tell you how many times I\u2019ve found myself in a random house or hotel room at three in the morning with some random Mary Magdalene\u2019s, contemplating what to do next and thinking to myself, \u201cHow in the fuck did I end up at this moment, in this place, watching what I\u2019m watching? What\u2019s my play here?\u201d) But everything bad that happened was happening too often to be a coincidence. Is still happening in some respects.<\/p>\n
When the darkness finally rose above, it came swifter and stayed longer than I thought was possible, and consequently damaged and collaterally damaged much more than I could pretend not to care about; everything in its reach got and gets caught in its velvet web.<\/p>\n
The argument can be made that my experiences have helped make me the person that I am. And for the most part that\u2019s a good thing. I love madly, forgive quickly, feel empathy deeply, laugh hard when I\u2019m happy or sad, make others laugh and smile, and easily make real connections with people. But there\u2019s an opposite side to that same coin that doesn\u2019t sound like charisma, though it has as its source the same dark energy. I catch myself crying spontaneously at almost nothing, hurt intensely with an emotional paralysis, wander the streets lost and lonely, and strike back hard with words when I feel that I\u2019ve been damaged intentionally. Yet I know that I don\u2019t do evil things because I\u2019m not inherently evil. I take action that looks evil not with premeditation, but by following the paths of least resistance and instant gratification, without regard for any consequences, good or bad, until they happen.<\/p>\n
Someone I love dearly spoke of me once to another person I loved dearly (when I wasn\u2019t there) saying to her, \u201cHe\u2019s super smart, kind and engaging when he\u2019s in the mood, and seductive as he wants to be. But there is a dark side.\u201d At the time I was mad at that spilled, heretical revelation. But it\u2019s difficult, disingenuous, and ultimately pointless to speak anger to truth.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I’ve asked myself what it is, and I guess it\u2019s more a kind of darkness. There was enough distraction when I was younger and preoccupied in the establishment of a life, that I was able to ignore it, with situational exceptions. Other proclivities like sex and alcohol sometimes made it feel like there wasn\u2019t even … <\/p>\n