Where Every Scroll is a New Adventure
Growing up with Conduct Disorder is reading Percy Jackson as a kid and knowing you’re a child of Ares
Having Conduct Disorder as a guy is really connecting to those “sigma male” things from eleven to thirteen years old
When my friend jokingly takes something from me and it takes everything in me not to strangle her 🤩🤩 (this happens often)
I’ve always thought that (generally speaking) people with low or no empathy have the capability to be better/nicer people than those with empathy. Growing up without empathy means you have to learn how to be nice, to everyone, and you probably understand what kindness is more. Growing up with empathy means you never have to learn this stuff, it just comes to you naturally. And then when there’s someone they don’t feel empathy for, they aren’t able to be nice or kind to them. Because we have to learn this stuff, we do it for everyone. People who have empathy will never feel it for every single person or people who differ from them in any way, and it shows.
Imagine the time I was six. I spent half an hour constructing my perfect fortress out of wooden blocks, carefully placing each piece. Every detail mattered, this wasn’t just playing, this was creating something. I looked at it, proud, knowing it was my work, my effort.
Then, some little shit walks by. I watch as his eyes narrow, and for a moment, he considers the easiest way to destroy what I’d just built. With one careless motion, he topples everything, scattering the blocks like they were nothing.
I don’t cry. I don’t scream for help. Instead, I get up, walk over, and grab him by the shoulder. A hard shove, and then I make sure he knows exactly what he’s done. He’s on the ground before he can even process it, his face swelling where I hit it. I don’t care about the blood or the broken tooth. All I care about is the fact that he destroyed something I created for no reason other than his amusement.
The teacher drags me away, gasping: "Look what you did! It’s just blocks, he’s a person!".
But it wasn’t just blocks. It was my time, my effort, and he threw it all away like it meant nothing. And he’s a person? Fine. So am I. And in that moment, his face wasn’t worth respecting.
Looking back at it as an adult, sure, maybe it was an overreaction. Maybe I was too harsh. But that moment wasn’t about rationality. It was about the principle of it. Yeah, I could’ve handled it differently. But I was a kid. That’s what kids do.. act on impulse.
No one cared about the fact that someone else’s selfish act destroyed what I valued. My retaliation was branded as aggression, while his provocation was dismissed as childish mischief. No one asked why I struck back. No one acknowledged that he’d destroyed something I built simply because he wanted to. I was the one who got punished.
At that time, the teacher’s failure was a clear lesson in injustice, that authority will side with the visible victim over the invisible violation, and proof that fairness is conditional, since his pain was 'real', while mine was 'just toys'.