I expect the worst. I mourn bad things that haven’t happened.
Instead of joyful input I dig up negative content. Holocaust movies, documentaries about serial killers, war crimes, the Vietnam war, addictions, etc.
When someone has something positive to say about me I ignore it. Or find a reason why it’s not true.
I manage to hide this well as people who I work with professionally tell me I am the most cheerful person they know. People who think am a bad actor: yeah, on a stage or in front of a camera maybe.
As soon as am alone I dive straight back into a protective lair of darkness and negativity. Where there is no room for dashed hopes, since there is no hope. Where there is no sudden pain, where life cannot ambush you with its unpleasant, cruel surprises, because everything is already pain. A place where nobody can dissapoint because everyone has been weighed and judged to be shitty, hypocrite, greedy, selfish, vapid, empty, brainwashed, silly, naive, delusional, narcissistic, dumb, unimaginative, craven, basically just human, as human is synonymous to vermin in that comforting darkness.
The only thing that breaks through this is you. Instantly, EVERY SINGLE TIME I see you.
Stories where bad things happen to children have become unbearable, stories of parents losing children cut me open faster than a samurai sword. I am plagued by horrific, sadistic fantasies in which I torture people who did bad things to children. Fantasies I have to push out of my mind. These are things I have never seen in even the most sadistic horror movie. One story that haunts me is something Mengele did to one mother and her baby. It makes my blood boil.
I understand the overused statement: ‘You are my sunshine.’
It’s not necessarily a bad thing for you to have a father to whom you are the world, but it’s not entirely healthy. I should derive happiness and joy from other things. I should be the sun to you, not the other way around.
Those closest to me have been put in the dark and the cold for many years now. Anyone who comes closes will be lashed, brutalized, nothing too major, just enough to destroy real intimacy or full acceptance. Someone close can be tolerated at best. Where there is no real intimacy there can be no real betrayal
None of this applies to you, am very careful about that and I hope it stays that way.
Slovakia is the perfect hide-out for the clandestinely dead inside. Slovaks do not try to get close and most are incapable of it. Communication and interaction here always stay on a certain safe, unprovocative level. There are exceptions to this rule, but they do not want to be mentioned here.
I know more people cut off from joy. It’s a classic strategy. To deaden all feeling. I give more attention to people who don’t care about me at all than those who do. The point is not to feel any joy.
You break through that and it’s scary. The whole fortress could crumble once it’s been sapped.
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