Inescapable

I find myself mentally swirling around like clothes inside a washer, yet one fact stands steadfast in the midst of all the confusion: I destroy everything I touch. I have the unfortunate weakness of caring about people too much. This is ironic due to the fact that I consider myself quite cold when compared to the normals, but words are useless without actions. My actions, despite however feeble they might be in a weak attempt to create some sort of imagined compromise with people, always end up causing blood to be shed, lives to be destroyed, and nothing but turmoil and dstruction in its wake. Admittedly I am intensely aware of my inability to comprehend complex emotions the same way that others do. I always considered deep emotions to be subjective and open to interpretation, but that apparently doesn't excuse me from some sort of invisible doctrine put in place by humans and comprehended by seemingly every member of the human race excluding myself. How did it come to be? Where did it manifest? And why the fuck didn't I get the memo? Perhaps the message lies deep in my subconscious. Maybe I'm not really an aspie and understood these concepts as a child, but years and years of abuse, neglect, and betrayal have hardened me to the point of repressing this emotional instruction manual far down below the realm of waking thought. On the other hand, how was I supposed to know that it had gone missing? All I've done throughout the years is adapt in order to survive. Survival vs. oblivion has been and continues to be the only option for me. I'm a person who constantly evolves with the environment and with the people around me. Yet in spite of this, there has to be some fundamental wiring that simply cannot be changed. A curse that has been with me my entire life and will haunt me to my death. I've tried to work with people. I have tried to reassure them. And most importantly, I have constantly hammered awareness of my condition to everyone that I've ever gotten close to. Yet perhaps due to laziness on their part or indifference to what I experience, they seem perfectly content heaping their own baggage on top of mine. There is no understanding and there are no shades of gray. They only want black and white: one extreme or the other. I have never been a person to deal in extremes despite the textbook aspie inclination to do so. Yet this is the only choice I'm given. With light there must be darkness. With joy there must be sorrow. And with passion there must be sacrifice.