Hello,
I sent a pretty long message about how I've analyzed this issued to my psychology instructor. It is pretty damn long, and maybe it was made out of impulse of 6mg xanax and some whisky, and maybe not the best thing to harass a teacher about, but I feel with his line of work he may be able to understand. And maybe some of you guys could understand, and play a sympathetic and/or psychological perspective on the issue. Here goes:
10/12/14
What the fuck does any of this mean?
What is moderation? Spending the hours between 11:00-12:45 on Tuesdays to work with three people I despise due to the fact that I’m not smarter than them, based on the very fact that I play the role as the leech, and that I cannot to anything right to lead the way in a subject I despise. I only get A’s on the in-class labs, making me the leech of the group. The reason why the so-called “faggot” I label in my mad shakes his head at me when I ask a stupid question is that his answer will not get me anywhere after I was supposed to do the work myself, and everyone that sits at my table knows that, whether they try to help me or not (more not than often.) It is safe to assume that these people are anti-drug use based off of implying terms they have used about it. Then again, using the word faggot doesn’t make me much a piece of work when it comes to insulting someone.
Do they think they’re better than me?
If they do, they are wrong. We four are share a certain positive trait, which is the absence of psychopathic behavior. None of us four are out there to satisfy sick intrinsic values to a sick personal agenda, to destroy someone from the inside out, rather than the outside in. Because of this, I can accept these three people as human.
At least on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I have my music of the world’s class at 2:00 to 3:15. That class, thanks to my teacher Mr. Becker, is my relief and calming effect that I get after the stress of Tuesday’ lab. Perhaps he deserved to be a put on a pedestal in my mind to a small extent, though that may be a bit of a stretch. When he played the five-string kantele, I imagined how a well a guitar could fit with it one way or another. I convinced myself I played guitar for four years, and for a while, I felt that I did it for the right reason: To have fun, and connect myself in some way.
And then there was Kyle.
Kyle bullied me at the age of twelve, manipulating others to join in and destroy me. I took it all like a bitch. I should’ve thrown a punch on him, even if de would beat my ass in the end (which thankfully never happened.) If it was a one time incident, maybe it would be best to let him go after all was said and done.
And then Kyle came back to my life as a false friend. Originally, he was actually worse than I was at playing guitar.
Around fifteen years old, we became friends. I has smoked weed in the past, but I was definitely not at the point to be considered a “pot head.” Once I truly brought Kyle into my group of friends, we started smoking about every two to three days. Being naïve and vulnerable, he began to coerce me into buying more weed. This is the point where I would ask my dad to lend me twenty bucks for food, when it was really for the daily use of weed. His insults were directed towards everyone, but seemingly, I became the biggest target of him. Or so it seemed.
Kyle was smarter than I feel that me most of my friends realized. Although I would talk about becoming a psychologist, and how it was my passion, he would one-up me on his knowledge of how the brain and the body connect, as well as other school subjects that I should’ve known in the first place. Making me look like a child.
He played a father role to me. I would play guitar with him, and although nothing dramatic came out of it, for a while, it truly seemed like there was a certain amount of productivity due to his “mentoring,” if that’s what it truly was, as well as my substantial feeling to do something for the sake of enjoyment. He gave me many compliments. Women who are victims of psychopaths can be initially drawn in to the so called “love bombs” their significant others flood their minds with satisfaction and encourage, making the woman feel good about herself. The psychopath disguises himself as one that will help the victim of their problems. As this happens, the psychopath also analyzes the victim to the point where he can define their defensive mechanisms. Once he brings the defense mechanisms to light, the deconstruction of the victim’s soul begins.
I have more personality traits from my mom, the sensitive woman, than I do from my dad. My dad will be wiser than how I could even imagine myself being. I remember long ago how badly it angered me that Kyle brought the personality traits of mother and connected them to me. The thing was that he was right; But his intentions were sadistic, to destroy me. It was not easy to ignore.
It was not only Kyle who had intentions to break me down. He would insult my friends, and backstab me during times when he would have these “reality check” conversations with them. He did the same thing to me as well. Although in the past, even in my freshman year of high school, I came to a realization that his intentions were to split my small group of friends apart, and so did they. (Hopefully.)
In the end, Kyle was the better guitar player. He made fun of me for claiming that I would wear band shirts/hoodies that I only vaguely knew the lyrics to the songs, even of my favorite bands. I believe that I felt a different kind of meaning to these songs that applied to me, but in the metal community (and many others probably,) there is a stigma attached to those who don’t get the full message of every single song that a band creates. He would find every single flaw he could find within me to ruin my entire psyche.
One day, I decided to venture out into the great sand dunes of Colorado to have an lsd trip that could potentially get to the bottom of my issue of his critical yet inaudible voice which still rings in my head every day. I ventured out there on my own, with the intention of taking three tabs. However, after the taking the second tab, I had a delusion that Kyle had told me in the past that he would predict the events that folded throughout the day. The reasoning behind the delusion is bizarre, and the complexities in the moment to fully explain the impact it had on me at the time seem to broad at the moment for me to even rationalize. But with drugs or without drugs, there is a voice myself criticizing others on the outside, and I feel that is because of his voice which haunts me every day.
But what he did to his “best friend,” Matt, was much worse than what he did to me. Kyle got both Matt and himself addicted to heroin, and then meth, and when they both moved far away together, their original plan was to just die. Great plan, huh?
One day, I got a call from Matt, saying that Kyle went full-blown psychotic due to the meth use. He was abusing Matt, his so called best friend, in ways that left Matt with a diagnosis of PTSD. Matt also had a number of underlying mental issues, which only added fuel to the fire. He was originally diagnosed as schizotypal, but after he ran away from Kyle back to Illinois, he was diagnosed with full-blow schizophrenia. He had these delusions of grandeur, of starting was most people would perceive possibly as a cult, but in his mind, it was a stable, communal structure. I know that Kyle in a sense was Matt’s “best friend,” but in reality, I believe it is possible that because of his psychotic nature, which has probably been around longer than one could hope for, it could have all been a scheme to ruin Matt from the beginning. And me.
Kyle once after moving to Arizona suggested to me that if I ever wanted to run away from my problems that I could move and live with him. I knew too well that this would be a horrible idea, and that my life would crumble if I were to do so. We talked in the past about the possibility of him experimenting with meth, and I told him that I wouldn’t judge him for experimenting with the drug, for two reasons: I would find hypocrisy in telling him which drugs he should not use to get his “fix,” but I also cautioned to not follow in his father’s footsteps, which led him into some sort of psychotic state, and eventually dying due to a heroin overdose.
Kyle damaged my psyche, and that’s the most damage he did to me. But Matt was a similar yet whole different story, degrading his psyche, and starving him physically. The “deal” between the two crazies was that Matt would take care of Kyle’s grandmother, who he was living with, as well as cleaning around the house and doing basic hygienic work throughout the house. Weirdly, Kyle came off as a very deep-thinker, which he actually was. But he also thought in black and white. His black and white thinking resembled that of a sadistic perfectionist; He always wanted people to live up to his expectations, which were impossible to meet, because he was and always has been insane. He just seemed to cover it better throughout high school and our fake friendship- which he shared with everyone around him.
Kyle came back to Illinois one day, and his scheme of manipulation to turn people against each other became more evident. As this point, I felt less easy to manipulate, as when he talked, his newly founded completely irrational views towards things such as Obama being born in Kenya made me decide that he was fucked in the head for life.
So now I have a supposed, obvious lesson to be learned about this, but the message hasn’t hit me. It appears that he’s won at his own game, although he is now a dying, miserable man with cancer (thank god.)
But this world will not change, not even if I reach the point where I become a full-on psychologist. I don’t believe I can change society, and frankly, I don’t want to, because society is fucked as it is. But if I can help one person- anyone- change their perspective on life, and give them a reason to live, then my job has been done. Of course, I can take into consideration where I myself and happy.
But happiness is an emotion. It’s part of the reward system which is exactly designed for our human instinct for survival. I find it funny how the automatic nervous system activated in the face of threats, as well as sexual function. It all ties into our instinct, a manipulation of this survival aspect. And this is the thing that I think Kyle saw, which in his mind is the aspect of the truth.
Except Kyle destroyed for those individuals. And it can seem not human to many people, but perhaps he has a sixth sense. Perhaps he is right.
I am a lost puppy. I know this is weird for me to send to a college professor. But I know you are dedicated to your field, and although I have no specific question in mind, if it’s true that you have worked with the crazies and the freaks, then I can trust that perhaps you will be able to give input to me on what you think about the whole ordeal.
I am willing to discuss this subject further, but I understand if you do not have time as you have many other students to attend to pertaining to the class.
But I can sense something in you, and maybe I’m manipulating myself with this Xanax and alcohol by writing this. I see a psychologist, but I want different aspects.
Please do not think I am trying to be a creepy student, but I am in a lot of distress. I haven’t been diagnosed with PTSD, but I believe that I may have symptoms due to the power of Kyle’s words. I understand if you ignore this, as this is not completely related to what we go over in class. I do see a psychologist, but different perspectives can lead different paths, and I want to choose the path that will, in the end, lead me to a state of self-acualization.
You are an inspiring teacher, but I thirst for knowledge, and sometimes I feel that there could be more in-depth things we could learn about things such as the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous system. But perhaps I must learn the building block before I understand the human mind.
Thank you for expanding my mind, and I hope that you can talk to me or help me in some way that may give me a different perspective on life.
If you don’t have time, I understand. But I hope you at least read this, because I am taking your classes for more than just college credits; I want the truth, and I want to figure out the truth among all the bullshit that my peers have put me through my whole life, and I can’t live the rest of my life dwelling on resentment and destroying myself.
Thank you for those who have read this. Any perspective is welcome.
I sent a pretty long message about how I've analyzed this issued to my psychology instructor. It is pretty damn long, and maybe it was made out of impulse of 6mg xanax and some whisky, and maybe not the best thing to harass a teacher about, but I feel with his line of work he may be able to understand. And maybe some of you guys could understand, and play a sympathetic and/or psychological perspective on the issue. Here goes:
10/12/14
What the fuck does any of this mean?
What is moderation? Spending the hours between 11:00-12:45 on Tuesdays to work with three people I despise due to the fact that I’m not smarter than them, based on the very fact that I play the role as the leech, and that I cannot to anything right to lead the way in a subject I despise. I only get A’s on the in-class labs, making me the leech of the group. The reason why the so-called “faggot” I label in my mad shakes his head at me when I ask a stupid question is that his answer will not get me anywhere after I was supposed to do the work myself, and everyone that sits at my table knows that, whether they try to help me or not (more not than often.) It is safe to assume that these people are anti-drug use based off of implying terms they have used about it. Then again, using the word faggot doesn’t make me much a piece of work when it comes to insulting someone.
Do they think they’re better than me?
If they do, they are wrong. We four are share a certain positive trait, which is the absence of psychopathic behavior. None of us four are out there to satisfy sick intrinsic values to a sick personal agenda, to destroy someone from the inside out, rather than the outside in. Because of this, I can accept these three people as human.
At least on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I have my music of the world’s class at 2:00 to 3:15. That class, thanks to my teacher Mr. Becker, is my relief and calming effect that I get after the stress of Tuesday’ lab. Perhaps he deserved to be a put on a pedestal in my mind to a small extent, though that may be a bit of a stretch. When he played the five-string kantele, I imagined how a well a guitar could fit with it one way or another. I convinced myself I played guitar for four years, and for a while, I felt that I did it for the right reason: To have fun, and connect myself in some way.
And then there was Kyle.
Kyle bullied me at the age of twelve, manipulating others to join in and destroy me. I took it all like a bitch. I should’ve thrown a punch on him, even if de would beat my ass in the end (which thankfully never happened.) If it was a one time incident, maybe it would be best to let him go after all was said and done.
And then Kyle came back to my life as a false friend. Originally, he was actually worse than I was at playing guitar.
Around fifteen years old, we became friends. I has smoked weed in the past, but I was definitely not at the point to be considered a “pot head.” Once I truly brought Kyle into my group of friends, we started smoking about every two to three days. Being naïve and vulnerable, he began to coerce me into buying more weed. This is the point where I would ask my dad to lend me twenty bucks for food, when it was really for the daily use of weed. His insults were directed towards everyone, but seemingly, I became the biggest target of him. Or so it seemed.
Kyle was smarter than I feel that me most of my friends realized. Although I would talk about becoming a psychologist, and how it was my passion, he would one-up me on his knowledge of how the brain and the body connect, as well as other school subjects that I should’ve known in the first place. Making me look like a child.
He played a father role to me. I would play guitar with him, and although nothing dramatic came out of it, for a while, it truly seemed like there was a certain amount of productivity due to his “mentoring,” if that’s what it truly was, as well as my substantial feeling to do something for the sake of enjoyment. He gave me many compliments. Women who are victims of psychopaths can be initially drawn in to the so called “love bombs” their significant others flood their minds with satisfaction and encourage, making the woman feel good about herself. The psychopath disguises himself as one that will help the victim of their problems. As this happens, the psychopath also analyzes the victim to the point where he can define their defensive mechanisms. Once he brings the defense mechanisms to light, the deconstruction of the victim’s soul begins.
I have more personality traits from my mom, the sensitive woman, than I do from my dad. My dad will be wiser than how I could even imagine myself being. I remember long ago how badly it angered me that Kyle brought the personality traits of mother and connected them to me. The thing was that he was right; But his intentions were sadistic, to destroy me. It was not easy to ignore.
It was not only Kyle who had intentions to break me down. He would insult my friends, and backstab me during times when he would have these “reality check” conversations with them. He did the same thing to me as well. Although in the past, even in my freshman year of high school, I came to a realization that his intentions were to split my small group of friends apart, and so did they. (Hopefully.)
In the end, Kyle was the better guitar player. He made fun of me for claiming that I would wear band shirts/hoodies that I only vaguely knew the lyrics to the songs, even of my favorite bands. I believe that I felt a different kind of meaning to these songs that applied to me, but in the metal community (and many others probably,) there is a stigma attached to those who don’t get the full message of every single song that a band creates. He would find every single flaw he could find within me to ruin my entire psyche.
One day, I decided to venture out into the great sand dunes of Colorado to have an lsd trip that could potentially get to the bottom of my issue of his critical yet inaudible voice which still rings in my head every day. I ventured out there on my own, with the intention of taking three tabs. However, after the taking the second tab, I had a delusion that Kyle had told me in the past that he would predict the events that folded throughout the day. The reasoning behind the delusion is bizarre, and the complexities in the moment to fully explain the impact it had on me at the time seem to broad at the moment for me to even rationalize. But with drugs or without drugs, there is a voice myself criticizing others on the outside, and I feel that is because of his voice which haunts me every day.
But what he did to his “best friend,” Matt, was much worse than what he did to me. Kyle got both Matt and himself addicted to heroin, and then meth, and when they both moved far away together, their original plan was to just die. Great plan, huh?
One day, I got a call from Matt, saying that Kyle went full-blown psychotic due to the meth use. He was abusing Matt, his so called best friend, in ways that left Matt with a diagnosis of PTSD. Matt also had a number of underlying mental issues, which only added fuel to the fire. He was originally diagnosed as schizotypal, but after he ran away from Kyle back to Illinois, he was diagnosed with full-blow schizophrenia. He had these delusions of grandeur, of starting was most people would perceive possibly as a cult, but in his mind, it was a stable, communal structure. I know that Kyle in a sense was Matt’s “best friend,” but in reality, I believe it is possible that because of his psychotic nature, which has probably been around longer than one could hope for, it could have all been a scheme to ruin Matt from the beginning. And me.
Kyle once after moving to Arizona suggested to me that if I ever wanted to run away from my problems that I could move and live with him. I knew too well that this would be a horrible idea, and that my life would crumble if I were to do so. We talked in the past about the possibility of him experimenting with meth, and I told him that I wouldn’t judge him for experimenting with the drug, for two reasons: I would find hypocrisy in telling him which drugs he should not use to get his “fix,” but I also cautioned to not follow in his father’s footsteps, which led him into some sort of psychotic state, and eventually dying due to a heroin overdose.
Kyle damaged my psyche, and that’s the most damage he did to me. But Matt was a similar yet whole different story, degrading his psyche, and starving him physically. The “deal” between the two crazies was that Matt would take care of Kyle’s grandmother, who he was living with, as well as cleaning around the house and doing basic hygienic work throughout the house. Weirdly, Kyle came off as a very deep-thinker, which he actually was. But he also thought in black and white. His black and white thinking resembled that of a sadistic perfectionist; He always wanted people to live up to his expectations, which were impossible to meet, because he was and always has been insane. He just seemed to cover it better throughout high school and our fake friendship- which he shared with everyone around him.
Kyle came back to Illinois one day, and his scheme of manipulation to turn people against each other became more evident. As this point, I felt less easy to manipulate, as when he talked, his newly founded completely irrational views towards things such as Obama being born in Kenya made me decide that he was fucked in the head for life.
So now I have a supposed, obvious lesson to be learned about this, but the message hasn’t hit me. It appears that he’s won at his own game, although he is now a dying, miserable man with cancer (thank god.)
But this world will not change, not even if I reach the point where I become a full-on psychologist. I don’t believe I can change society, and frankly, I don’t want to, because society is fucked as it is. But if I can help one person- anyone- change their perspective on life, and give them a reason to live, then my job has been done. Of course, I can take into consideration where I myself and happy.
But happiness is an emotion. It’s part of the reward system which is exactly designed for our human instinct for survival. I find it funny how the automatic nervous system activated in the face of threats, as well as sexual function. It all ties into our instinct, a manipulation of this survival aspect. And this is the thing that I think Kyle saw, which in his mind is the aspect of the truth.
Except Kyle destroyed for those individuals. And it can seem not human to many people, but perhaps he has a sixth sense. Perhaps he is right.
I am a lost puppy. I know this is weird for me to send to a college professor. But I know you are dedicated to your field, and although I have no specific question in mind, if it’s true that you have worked with the crazies and the freaks, then I can trust that perhaps you will be able to give input to me on what you think about the whole ordeal.
I am willing to discuss this subject further, but I understand if you do not have time as you have many other students to attend to pertaining to the class.
But I can sense something in you, and maybe I’m manipulating myself with this Xanax and alcohol by writing this. I see a psychologist, but I want different aspects.
Please do not think I am trying to be a creepy student, but I am in a lot of distress. I haven’t been diagnosed with PTSD, but I believe that I may have symptoms due to the power of Kyle’s words. I understand if you ignore this, as this is not completely related to what we go over in class. I do see a psychologist, but different perspectives can lead different paths, and I want to choose the path that will, in the end, lead me to a state of self-acualization.
You are an inspiring teacher, but I thirst for knowledge, and sometimes I feel that there could be more in-depth things we could learn about things such as the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous system. But perhaps I must learn the building block before I understand the human mind.
Thank you for expanding my mind, and I hope that you can talk to me or help me in some way that may give me a different perspective on life.
If you don’t have time, I understand. But I hope you at least read this, because I am taking your classes for more than just college credits; I want the truth, and I want to figure out the truth among all the bullshit that my peers have put me through my whole life, and I can’t live the rest of my life dwelling on resentment and destroying myself.
Thank you for those who have read this. Any perspective is welcome.
