For those of you are fans of my epic pity parties, here’s a brand new one, highlighting my narcissism, delusions of grandeur, self doubt, self loathing and plain old delusions.
Sometimes I get mad for no reason, I’ll just turn around, and there will be this boiling, creeping fury itching through my veins. I just want to hit and kick and bite and scream and scream and scream. I feel cheated, and bitter, and broken. Worse are the times when I don’t feel that fire, but just a cool knot of uncaring, words like ice on my tongue, my heart frozen.
Sometimes I’m rash and impulsive and haughty and cruel, and cold. I expect the world to bend will, or I’ll make it. And If I can’t force it, I’ll get angry, with that white hot fire again.
But that’s not me, is it? Sometimes I’m thoughtful, and quiet, and cautious and deferent. And I cringe at the terrible things I’ve said and the way I’ve acted. And I call myself a monster and I fall into self-loathing and depression. Or I’ll just shrug it off and get on with my poetry and thoughts and books.
Or I’ll shrug it off and get on with my scheming, and self-aggrandizing, and bossing people around.
Sometimes I question why I act so differently, so capriciously. Nice one moment and nasty the next. Its like I have darkness and light bond up inside me, and I don’t know what’s the real me. Or if there is a ‘real’ me. Its like I have two distinct personality sets, but I’ve never really believed that I’m more than one person. All my experiences, likes, dislikes are the same; just not the way I act.
Its been that way for as long as I can remember I’ve even had a number of different names for both personalities. Gina and Jamie with the first. But there have been so many others. Massha and David, Saevitia and Zack, Jason and Demon Jason. All the same reflections of my dualism. One quite, and thoughtful, and bookish, and gentle, and humble. The other loud and commanding and narcissistic, cold and cruel.
Sometimes I want nothing more than to rid myself of that darkness, and be the gentle idealist all the time, want to think that that’s the real me. But the cruel narcissist always comes back, always pushes and shouts and demands. And when I’m like that I don’t want to be any other way.
Its like there’s a pane of glass between my yin and yang.
Why am I like that, always and extreme? Shadows dancing in my head, mocking me. Who am I, and who do I want to be? I know I should want to be good and whole…
But sometimes I revel in this dichotomist madness, the schism in my mind.