Combating your own N in your possible NPD ass life.
Normal emotions. Buried because fear of rejection for having them. The greater the fear, the greater the shield of special and shovel of repression.
Lonely — It’s okay to be lonely. It’s not a stigma, it’s an emotional highlight that you want some social stimulation that means something to you. Or so the rumor goes. From a stupid monkey human perspective, how do you think nature gets yo ass outside to breed? Think about it. It’s a fucking Brain state, not something that needs pills and meds thrown at it. Be lonely mother fucker, sit in that discomfort for a bit. Play in it. Smell it. Stick your dick in it, don’t have a dick? Borrow a dick, plenty to go around, we got dick for days out here.
Shame- Game of thrones style. Be shameful of certain things, remember that time you let the dog lick your asshole and thought it was an alarm clock in your dream? Yeah that’s fucked up and shameful. It’s okay to be ashamed of things. It’s normal. Again it’s another fucking thing that people don’t insta much about, shame’s a part of life, did you fly a plane into a tower killing tons of people? It’s okay to be ashamed of that and not blame it on your religion. Murder’s bad mmmkay. Don’t care how we dress it up.
Fear — A strong man meets his with courage and fire and blah blah redneck rhetoric here, bunch of bullshit. Where’s the suicide rates higher boys by state? Give you a hint it’s not your peach pussy Georgia, or you fucking nerd ass wafflin Texas. Here save you a google:
But why? I’ve oddly lived in a lot of various patches of these places, so here’s my anecdotal throw it out if you want take: Be a man, pull yourself up, stand against nature bitch lets go. A lot of these places are bootstrap states, clamming, shrimping hard mother fuckers northeast, sheep fucking mountaineers theres in Montana and down through the rockies, Alaska… Fuck that shit, yeah they get a oil pipe dividend, but let me repeat, if you’re a man especially, you’re not in those places taking pretty fucking pictures and going to yoga with Becky, you’re breaking your fucking back and getting sneered at if you don’t break it faster. You lazy? Why the fuck do you need a doctors appointment? Pussies go to see the doctor you faggot. This is not crude language, this is a belief system that some of you will never understand or would be in disbelief of. And then these mother fuckers who are hard as nails, still broke, have to listen to some fucking person tell them how everything they were brought up in is actually not how people really deal with things or each other and they just need to listen to Oprah more, that’s their wife explaining the world to them. So these confused tired fuckers realize they must just not be strong enough, smart enough, good enough, cue first time insecurity wave here, and they don’t know what to do with this. They are so fucking confused by this paradigm shift. They have been working their asses off and listening to what people told them while they were growing up and even further reconfirmed by some fitness model one off talking head telling them to get harder, that they finally figure, fuck it they wrap a towel around their neck and sit down or they grab that years worth of savings rifle, they go off somewhere so they don’t leave a mess for anyone and boom. I kid you not, some bitches will laugh about these guys and say he had problems. No. Fuck all of you. This is a systematic problem, am I doing anything to change it you ask? Fuck no, I’m no pussy faggot. Silly gooses! Okay, some of them love what they do first and foremost and that’s awesome, because then everything is in accommodation to that goal, I’m betting they’ll be ok, it’s the only reason I’ll be ok, because I’m far enough on the right end of the narcsy spectrum to do what’s right for me. Some of these guys think they’re being altruistic though, and they’re depressed as shit, and I hope someone smart knows how to help them.
Sadness- I got no problem crying in front of people anymore. I beat this one. Sometimes we’re sad. If you don’t know what that is, and you’ve made it this far. I highly recommend you brace yourself.
Love yourself and anyone else you can. I think it’s all that actually matters anymore.
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When life resets and you’re dumbstruck. And all that bullshit.
Yeah you lose that special person, you lose that job, and that god damn rain cloud appears. You go watch that Ram Das stuff and look for be here now, find the moment with Tolle, watch Jocko go pump some iron be a fucking beast, Higgins get that mental toughness get up and go, Watts says breathe, Sinatra says that’s life bitch Camus agrees with Fletcher and says it’s all absurdism, but you’ll be happier doing something, do the fucking work C.T. might say it shorter… All those motivational, up beat, do work, grind through. Etc etc, blah fucking blah. And I think that’s all perfectly good stuff. It all helps, it gets you moving, working, breathing, functioning, but here’s the secret:
AINT NO GOD DAMN SECRET
You need to do all that shit. Stop reading. Get off the fucking internet. Fucking go buddy.
Fuck this blog I’ll be back later today.
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Donald Trump, my hero, my warrior poet, my lover.
I look out the passenger plane window at the ocean below, Catalina just off in the distance. The Donald, he seems so focused there in the pilots chair, his mind clear and alert, a strong man. His waved hair bouncing gently. He catches my gaze, a light in his eye with a lip ended smile. I know what he wants, but I have to play hard to get, he loves this game. We met so many years ago at a peach orchard in Georgia, I was just a young boy then, not knowing what I was doing. He taught me things. Showed me the hills you could go over where no one could see from the house. It was simpler in those days, playful, holding hands, kissing, sneaking notes to each other. Wrestling in the barn. Being pinned down. He was so easy to talk to back then. This was our first get away since his election, and he always had to play golf on his free time to keep up appearances. We made it work when we could, but he was getting more distant over the years, he always became defensive when I asked if it was me, or if there was anything I could do. He was proud, stubborn, a beautiful leader for a beautiful country. I knew he loved me even if it was hard for him to say.
“Where is this relationship going, when can I tell people?” I ask. He doesn’t respond at first, just staring forward, thinking. He leans over and runs his index finger down the side of my face to my lips, he holds there knowing how to shush me and calm me. I love it. We sit for a moment, the occasional bump. He leans over further in the small cessna and runs his hand down to my lap, it doesn’t seem sexual, I hold his hand. He squeezes back. We exchange smiles. He knows how to melt my heart with just one wink. People are stupid he says, it’s not their business what we do. Can I at least tell my mother? I smile, knowing how much he hates her, she’s a chatter box and has a degree in political science, women with degree’s are a waste of time in Donald’s eyes, that’s why I love him, he’s not afraid of telling people the truth.
The sun was setting low now. All I could see was ocean, How far are we to Hawaii? Donald looked sad as he looked over at me. His face said everything. We’re not going to Hawaii…
I wake up, oh thank god it was just a fucking DeusEx ending Nightmare, I roll over and spoon little Biden.
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