GOD.

The most Divine Perfection on the planet. The God && Living Deity.

[psychopathperfection]

It’s refreshing to say the first thought that comes to mind instead of having to pause, mask, and reword it. All for the stupidity of success in life.

[psychopathperfection]

Keep pushing this disgusting idea I want to be friends with randoms I can’t even bring myself to respectfully talk to despite the fact it’s my job and I might actually lose it. I don’t consider just everyone my friend you braindead piece of shit. Don’t act so fucking slow, it’s a disgusting look on you. You should be glad I even consider you one with this attitude, but you better correct it before I take that from you. Seriously, who do you think I am? I’m not so easy.

[psychopathperfection]

I’m sitting in a car with weird sacks of meat. No one is real and I left my knife at home. Fucking hate medicated me.

[psychopathperfection]

I keep not really registering the fact that others around me are supposedly existing beings with needs and thoughts. The moment I stop entertaining the idea of speaking to you, I feel like you sort of cease existing. That you don't really have needs with much weight or gravity, that there's genuinely nothing to worry about on my part in terms of keeping and fostering relationships. Why would there be anything when you're basically not 'real', in my head? And it is strange, because this extends to everything at all.

If I ignore you for a while, it really isn't such a big deal because you're barely... real. You're barely existing out of my view, you're not even really something to be considered important unless directly interacting with me. I wonder what it's like to truly care for others to the point you understand and truly see them as their own living and moving beings. I wonder what it's like to have a world view that includes others so freely. I wonder what it's like. It must be weird, though not lonely. Perhaps it is lonely. I really couldn't say, I have no clue.

[psychopathperfection]

What a genuinely exhausting and pathetic life one must have to constantly be consumed by hating yourself all the time. Seriously, you could be doing something else instead of acting like that, it’s so strange. I cannot understand it at all, and can’t muster up the energy to play sympathy when someone whines about that.

And then, they will say it simply is not that easy, which I could understand if they weren’t someone who didn’t even bother trying at all. Just letting self hate fuck you raw instead of actually trying to act differently to combat the thoughts, instead of getting help, instead of making an effort? Sure, not that easy at all. As if you’d know, you don’t even try. This is why I really cannot keep close connections or any semblance of that.

[psychopathperfection]

Such bothersome expectations of who I am supposed to be and how I am supposed to act. You should be happy I even replied to you after the childish bullshit you said. Who do you think I am, seriously? How much ‘care’ do you think natively lives inside me? Since when was my first reaction to anything going to be care? Get the fuck over yourself.

[psychopathperfection]

This music is so loud. My leg resting against the door of my car is like intimate contact. The sound and the vibrations across my back and my leg is making me kind of hard. It doesn’t help that cars are so damn attractive. And the speeding, the idiots trying to race me yet managing to lose before they can even get their bumper past my mirror, the triple digits; my life is so perfect right now.

[psychopathperfection]

You said you ‘might have BPD’. Inital thought was, not another one. But then, I had to remind myself that it isn’t the same as prior relationships with those with BPD. Of course my mind thinks this way; unforgiving, generalizing, rarely soft, and to behave properly it is an action I must take.

You should feel so lucky that I’m doing my best for you. It’s not a problem that you have it, honestly. I understand how the disorder works. If you have it, okay. I’ll work with it, I like you enough to do that much. You’re welcome.

[psychopathperfection]

You know, part of the job here is acting like you mean something to me. The talking when I feel like it, the fact I let you work beside me, the fact I even entertain your words. This doesn’t mean I like you. It means I’m doing my job. Quit asking to be ‘friends’. I don’t want you to ask for my socials, I don’t want you to come over to me and greet me, begging for scraps of my attention. I don’t want you. You’re nothing to me. Don’t confuse yourself and think you mean something other than some strange bags of flesh I have to navigate around.

[psychopathperfection]

If not anger, it’s only nothingness. I can’t stand this life.

[psychopathperfection]

Somehow, it's a bad thing to repeatedly bring up something that someone has done wrong. If me mentioning it is the only way you won't do it again, because I don't fucking like it (to put lightly), then why is it a problem I make sure to remind you? Get a grip, you did it. I don't understand that, being so torn up about something you did. Maybe it's because I don't know how regret feels, how it must be to feel so bad about something you've done. But also I just don't care. Let the guilt eat you alive, then, and learn to behave when you're with me.

[psychopathperfection]

I'm so fucking mad I'm going to be sick.

[psychopathperfection]

Ohhh, my goddd, I am so fucking materialistic, but I don't care. I need it. The fact that I do not have what I deserve to have, even in fucking objects, makes my chest feel so hollow, it's sickening. I need these, I have to have them. They're perfect and suit no one else but me. I need them, immediately. It's not like it'll make me overwhelmingly happy, it's just like a bland and empty "finally, I got what I deserve".

Still, I should have it right now. I also might be sick, that I don't have what I deserve to have. I have a headache and I'm dizzy.

[psychopathperfection]

Remember: I can do what I want.

[psychopathperfection]

How to say “I don’t care, stop talking about this and let me change the topic” without people getting butthurt and emotional about it.

[psychopathperfection]

Even at my worst, literally hunched over the counter in public and halfway to passing out I get a compliment. Thaaaanks. I know I look nice, thank you, I'm aware.

[psychopathperfection]

Holy shit, I cannot stand it. You have such rudimentary thinking it’s infuriating, but don’t try to infect me with your inability to understand simple fucking concepts.