Confessions of a psychopath

The term 'psychopath' invokes images of Norman Bates, crazed insanity, remorseless fiends, knife-wielding nut jobs with no regard for human life, or the feelings of others. The standards of our collective human fabric are non existent when considering the general perception of the psychopath.
This may be true.
Psychopaths are said to have no empathy, no regard for the human condition or the suffering of others. This, to, may well be true.  Psychopaths are diabolical, heartless beings, who consider fellow human beings as less than worthy, less than human, and undeserving of regard.
This is a typical assumption and not without some merit. Countless examples exist. We need only look into the recent past and even into the now to see examples of this deplorable human condition.
But what does it mean? What is this existence that defines a psychopath? Is this simply a disconnect from true human emotion? Perhaps a chemical imbalance or a condition of environment? Is the psychopath born, learned? Is psychopathy a result of a chemical imbalance or a systematic result of conditioning? I don't know. I can only speak for myself.
I have never harmed an animal. I have never taken a life, even insects are difficult for me to squash, with the exception of cockroaches. I ditest the roach. I am, however, removed, to a degree, from the healthy expression of emotion. I have difficultly creating that human connection.  When I do, I covet that connection in a way that may be deemed 'unhealthy'.
Of course, I consider the norms quite ridiculous. I observe the conditional nature of connection an afront to our human nature.  'I love you' but only if and only when is blasphemy. I love you or the do not. I don't aim to change you, fix you or judge you. In my eyes, you are your heart and your mind, your actions. I love or do not love, based on those realities.
My psychopathy lies in the realm outside the normal, the places we fear. Our human vulnerability is where I linger. My psychothy lies in love. I am sick because I toss aside the idea that worth has a dollar value. I am sick because I do not judge beauty based on the exterior. I am sick because I know that I am a judge, or worthy to judge. I am a psychopath because I do not believe that accepting the status quo is what this life is about. I will live and I will die. I will try and I will fail and occasionally, I will succeed. But I will always be a crazy lover of life, long after this definition is revised. I have murdered myself a thousand times. Somehow, I continue to walk.  Somehow, I continue to believe. I believe in the idea that my crazy is enough to be in love in a world of ugliness.