Questioning My Reality - Tumblr Posts
“Have some basic human empathy”
Bitch, you know I’m not human, right? And, uhh, newsflash, I don’t actually have empathy. Or sympathy, for that matter. Just, like, some amount of compassion in the sense that I know I should help someone because a) I like being thanked, and b) it’s what’s expected of me. Like, I don’t actually care about people. At least, not in the way I’m supposed to. I care about others because it’s convenient. Because that’s what I’m supposed to do and feel and think and say. But I’d be lying if I said I actually cared. I like having company, sure, but I honestly don’t care how someone else is feeling. Nor do I think I should, actually. Unless it directly affects me. Like, unless my safety is a concern, or there’s something I want from you, it takes a conscious decision to act like I care. But I’m manipulative without trying to be, and I hate that, but I don’t actually, like, feel bad about it. I’m not ashamed or guilty for not caring. I just pretend that I care because if I don’t care, I’m a “bad person,” right?
What defines an action as correct? The action itself, the result from it, or the intention? Because I’ve done “bad” things for “good” reasons. And “good” things for “bad” reasons. Example:
Telling someone that if they hurt themselves, I’ll do the same to myself. Bad because it’s manipulative and self-destructive. But good because it prevents someone from causing damage to themselves. As for my intention, I was lonely and needed friends. So, bad action, selfish motivation, but good result in the end, right?
The more I see the world, the more gray it becomes. When you’re a kid, you’re taught in absolutes. This is good, that is bad. But when you grow up, you learn that under certain circumstances, this might be bad, and that might be good. Then you grow a little more and wonder what “good” and “bad” actually mean. My personal idea of what’s “good” is the thing that causes the least amount of harm. And by extension, a “bad” action is one that causes more harm than necessary. By that logic, the example was a “good” action, even if it could also be classified as stupid and reckless. I won’t deny either of those; it was very stupid and reckless.
But the world doesn’t see things the way I do. The world is a chaotic, emotional place where people don’t see things in forms of logical questions. Most people also talk about the idea of “feeling bad” when you do something “wrong.” If they mean fear of getting caught and/or ridiculed for an action, then sure, I “feel bad” when I do a “bad” thing. I don’t like being yelled at, so I avoid things that cause others to yell at me. I don’t steal from the poor because a) they have nothing worth stealing, b) I’m also poor and would hate for someone to steal from me, and c) I wouldn’t survive prison. I was told that stealing is bad, but I would steal from someone with more than me. After all, they have plenty and probably wouldn’t even notice if I took some, right? But I don’t do that. Not because it’s “wrong” but because, again, prison is a place I don’t want to go to. I would help someone who is in pain not because I care, but because I don’t enjoy the sight of others being in pain. It’s unpleasant to see someone in pain, and the best way to not have to see that is to make the pain disappear.
Is that abnormal? Do “normal” people understand “good” and “bad” differently? What stops you from doing something “wrong?” As usual with my observations about my own behavior, this is likely a symptom of something, a symptom I am incredibly good at masking. I’ve always been seen as the “empathetic,” kind person. I don’t think they know what empathy is, because I really don’t have any. Sure, I can fake sympathy without a second thought, but empathy? I wouldn’t know where to start with that. It’s fascinating, really, when I try to look within.
No one actually knows me at all. They only see what I show them. What I want them to see. Maybe that’s a problem. But I think it’s useful
I’m so confused. Which me is me? Because I’ve basically always been the one in control of this body, but I’m not the only one here, I think. I mean, we’ve got a nonhuman ghost thing (she doesn’t know what she is, either, and we’ve been trying to figure that out for years), a demon-thing who just came into existence and made me question my entire reality, and like a half-dozen original characters who just kind of became part of this whole thing. To clarify, the “me” that’s typing this is the host, as in the one that made this blog in the first place.
But if there’s more than one me, which me is the real me?
All I know is that none of us are fully human, and that we all have certain things in common, but different voices, genders, thought patterns, and perceptions.