And if she says we partied then I'm pretty sure we partied, I really don't remember

Sometimes I can look at something that I've been involved in and describe it analytically as if I was not even really a participant. I look at the words that are coming out as I describe my own actions and wonder, "Is that what I was doing? Is that why?"

People see me do this and wonder how I can be so detached. I guess the answer is that I'm not really analyzing the actions on a conscious level as they occur. I'm sure that is by design somehow. A safety mechanism to keep me from looking to hard at what I am doing. But in the back of my mind the detached observer is watching it all unfold nd cataloging the what and why. Even if the conscious part cannot remmeber the what, the other side can generally explain the why. Sometimes though there's nothing. No inkling of why or what. That's when it's scary.

I mean even in a blackout - something that happens with much less frequency nowadays - if smeone tells me what I did I usually realize why I did it. Generally such actions relate directly to some biomechnical need or desire.

"Why did you piss in the closet?"

"I probably thought I was in the bathrom. They both have a door."

"Do you remember striping down and walking around with a hard on shouting, 'A hole, a hole, my kingdom for a hole?'"

"Musta been pretty horny."


But there are times even I have been left scratching my head curiously, "I did what? Hmmmm. Now why on earth would I have done that?"

Maybe it's all the time have spent watching forensics shows and reading about serial killers and crime, but I can see the darkness behind every move. Even the most innocent exchange can carry a deep blackness to them and I get to see it. But never while it is happening. When it is happening I am pretty much on a mission. Whatever that mission may be: revenge, lust, anger, kndness. I get to pull back the curtain and see the twisted mechanics of cruelty, but usually only in retrospect. There are exceptions, of course.

I remember certain moments when I consciously decided, "I am going to say the single most hurtful thing that I possibly can based on everything I know about this person. I am going to take every secret ever shared and distill them down into one sentence. One wildly cruel sentence. It's my curse.

Now knowing that I can do that leaves open the possibility that I might do it unconsciously. SAcary, huh?