The Dark Passenger

I just wrote about this on another post, but I’d like to extrapolate further rather than going on a tangent.

Almost everyone on this site has a dark passenger.  The side of your personality that’s defined by society as dark, mysterious, depressing, or even screwed up.  Personally, I like this side of me.  Sure I seem well-adjusted, easy to talk to, going out with friends to movies and laughing at asinine comments and jokes.  It’s all a show.  I’m getting fucking sick of it.

Let’s bring up a couple examples:

• The Movies – like 44 million other people in the world, I went out and made the mistake of seeing Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.  Ten other people accompanied me to the movie, including my girlfriend, all wearing Harry Potter clothing.  I thought I was going to blow my brains out.  The whole time they were are laughing and gushing about the movie, and every time one of them would request my attention I would know exactly how to respond to the comment, joke, or satirical brilliance hurled my way.  I realized that I didn’t even feel it, I didn’t think it was funny at all. I know how to respond but beyond that I have no feelings towards the situation.  All I wanted to do is get to my house and look up autopsies (disgusting to some people I know, but the fact is I’ve always been good at science and I’m planning to be a surgeon.  I actually like looking at the photos too, makes me have somewhat of a longing feeling…those lucky dead bastards).  My girlfriend holds my hand, I hold it back.  When she looks at me I know to smile.  When my friends look at me I know to smile and, in appropriate places, convey a humorous comment.  Other than that, I’m an empty vessel, void of emotion.  At least I thought that, until I realized I wasn’t empty; I was just making room for my better half.  My dark passenger.
• My room – not in a social setting, I know, but this is the most important part.  Where my emotions are unrestricted by the social niceties that plague this world and restrict the minds and actions of billions.   Where my dark passenger can float to the surface.  I have conversations with it.  I draw with it.  Hell I laugh with it.  Because it understands my humor, like no one else does or can.  It’s me, but another thing part of me.  It sounds crazy, but it helps me deal with all the crap in this world.  It’s an outlet.  By ‘conversations,’ I mean I literally go back and forth in my head, thinking about random things and why people do them.  My dark passenger is always with me.  On the highway, asking me what would happen if I jerked my wheel 45 degrees to the right and held it steady, crashing into the concrete median at 90 miles per hour.  What would happen if I bought rat poison and consumed it, thinning my blood and causing an internal brain hemorrhage or external bleed.   What would happen if I killed myself.

I like this side because it’s honest.  I live in this world of lies, I live in a house full of morons and idiots who can’t separate a debate from an argument and a reason from an excuse.  My dark passenger is the only thing that gives me comfort, causing me to laugh at the atrocities spewed before me.

Causing me to feel separated, lonely, distant…exactly where I want to be.  Exactly where I’m happy.