I was in a corner in a dark room naked, forgotten who what when where why how about everything in existence, (my identity, what reality is, etc. etc. Disco Elysium shit.) I had my hands on my head and allegedly I was saying "why" over and over in a distressed voice getting worse and worse, before I attacked and tried eating my only two friends. When the police arrived, all I saw was the white "POLICE" text on one of their armours, then I was on the ground writhing in bottles of glass and a bunch of other rez shit, got my arm seemingly stuck under something, then, in my most conscious second when I figured out what was going on, I was begging them not to lift me up, for I was stuck, then they lift me up, and my scream was allegedly heard from a fifteen minute walk away at almost full volume, even though I was in a closed basement. When I woke up in the hospital I my entire upper arm was purple but didn't hurt at all like a bruise should. Then I went back to work the next day.
Existence since I was about maybe four, five, or six, my first memory being on a sled being pulled by my mom to the school she works at during the winter, warm in that cradle, my very first memory, was my respite before the nightmare. The next memory I was afraid, scared of a monster some teens were convincing me was the cause of their enigmatic gushing flesh wounds on their feet. I wish when I went back to sleep on that sled forever, out of this phenomenal never ending nightmare back to that eternity I spent being the atoms in the world which would find themselves arbitrarily arranged into me. My little brother was a happy go lucky kid, then eventually became unable to speak sentences anymore due to insecurity clearly brought on by his dad, my step dad. That guy almost did the same to me completely, but thank fuck my mom kept him on a leash when it came to being whatever strange type of abuser he was towards me. Not physical usually. Never cared when I was bullied, sexually harrassed, ostracized, etc., at every school I went to, which I moved between on average every four months.
I attempted to kill myself, seriously this time, (not the many times I sat in the cold hoping I could pass the threshold as a kid, then quitting after 10 seconds of being too cold.) this time I left myself a foot long, muscle deep scar on my left arm. Parents finally stopped speaking to me like I was an idiotic shit stain who just wouldn't man up after that, so living here is bearable, at least for me as far as I'm concerned. But my mind is broken. The docs said I have schizophrenia, bipolar, and adhd. Not exactly the autism diagnosis I was expecting. Coming up with new thoughts is harder now. I used to win awards for the art my family hated I make, of colourless lovecraftian images of sadism, decay, defeat, insanity, etc.. That comic I made was pretty fucking tight, I wish it and my art live on after I go. Not exactly the innovative scientific labour, or the revolutionary social theorizing I wanted to do originally, but that part of my life is pretty rad still at least. Maybe I'll post everything online somewhere again.
Uhh, I don't remember where I was going with this. All I know is that I'm tired of sentience, ever since my second memory it's been awful encounter after awful encounter with what should have been my fellow human beings. And when I'm not doing that, I'm making plans, over and over again, rarely do I do them, like the Nowhere Man from Yellow Submarine. It's as if I had done a misdeed in a past life, and I was sent here as punishment, a place designed to torture me until the end of time, (potentially likely due to transhumanism, if so, extremely likely that forced immortality becomes a thing if prevailing attitudes continue to calcify.) and then makes me think it's my fault, as the higher being laugh at my little clown show in a comically sized universe. Sure, I can make the greatest art that defines the time I lived in, or write an analysis of society that any self preserving capitalist would make sure to ban, or even figure out the deal is with reality as a scientist. But now I don't want to anymore. I don't care. I despise this world, from the laws of physical reality to the fictions that maintain us. Especially those dozens of bullies who picked the most vulnerable to "joke around with", whether it was me or a first generation immigrant.
I have one friend online I talk to, the day I drown myself, I will apologize to him, and him alone. The only person in the world who ever said they cared about me and I actually believed it. Fuck everyone else. Every single one of them, their unholy networks. When I was tripping balls saying "why why why" over and over again, I saw a closed grid, filled with fluid cell like entities. They were all huddled organically in a two dimensional square box, all of them clearly uncomfortable in the current "tight" arrangement they've found themselves in, and it gets worse and worse until at some point all of them are able to move into a new, temporarily more comfortable arrangement at once in an explosive event. Then they're trapped again. It's a never ending cycle that never truly goes anywhere. Perhaps the square was moving with time, creating a 3d object, like the thickness of an animation flipbook, and that is their version of progress. But why? That is what I think describes everything. Reality, evolution, human society. We're all in that box, in that corner asking why.
I like to think I'm going to commit suicide over some profound revelation, as evidenced by what I just wrote. But elaborating all about how shit I am, how secretly evil yet lazy I am, how my life sucks, about every injustice occured upon me, every horrifying moment that stops me dead in my tracks and forces me to blink away tears in a public place, etc., is simply boring for me to recite, for I've ran those circles in my head everyday for as long as I can remember, and it's just annoying. I'd rather be one of the cool kids who kill themselves for a reason you need 200 IQ to understand. Maybe I won't do it. Probably not. Hope I have the strength to do so this time though. Then maybe I'll be a ghost who haunts and rape committers and fascists as a being that has transcended this strangely hellish feeling of sentience.
Anyway, am new here, hi, not sure what the norms are here, or how to socialize at all, hope I didn't break any conventions. Like me asking right now "what do you think of this drawing I made?".
Existence since I was about maybe four, five, or six, my first memory being on a sled being pulled by my mom to the school she works at during the winter, warm in that cradle, my very first memory, was my respite before the nightmare. The next memory I was afraid, scared of a monster some teens were convincing me was the cause of their enigmatic gushing flesh wounds on their feet. I wish when I went back to sleep on that sled forever, out of this phenomenal never ending nightmare back to that eternity I spent being the atoms in the world which would find themselves arbitrarily arranged into me. My little brother was a happy go lucky kid, then eventually became unable to speak sentences anymore due to insecurity clearly brought on by his dad, my step dad. That guy almost did the same to me completely, but thank fuck my mom kept him on a leash when it came to being whatever strange type of abuser he was towards me. Not physical usually. Never cared when I was bullied, sexually harrassed, ostracized, etc., at every school I went to, which I moved between on average every four months.
I attempted to kill myself, seriously this time, (not the many times I sat in the cold hoping I could pass the threshold as a kid, then quitting after 10 seconds of being too cold.) this time I left myself a foot long, muscle deep scar on my left arm. Parents finally stopped speaking to me like I was an idiotic shit stain who just wouldn't man up after that, so living here is bearable, at least for me as far as I'm concerned. But my mind is broken. The docs said I have schizophrenia, bipolar, and adhd. Not exactly the autism diagnosis I was expecting. Coming up with new thoughts is harder now. I used to win awards for the art my family hated I make, of colourless lovecraftian images of sadism, decay, defeat, insanity, etc.. That comic I made was pretty fucking tight, I wish it and my art live on after I go. Not exactly the innovative scientific labour, or the revolutionary social theorizing I wanted to do originally, but that part of my life is pretty rad still at least. Maybe I'll post everything online somewhere again.
Uhh, I don't remember where I was going with this. All I know is that I'm tired of sentience, ever since my second memory it's been awful encounter after awful encounter with what should have been my fellow human beings. And when I'm not doing that, I'm making plans, over and over again, rarely do I do them, like the Nowhere Man from Yellow Submarine. It's as if I had done a misdeed in a past life, and I was sent here as punishment, a place designed to torture me until the end of time, (potentially likely due to transhumanism, if so, extremely likely that forced immortality becomes a thing if prevailing attitudes continue to calcify.) and then makes me think it's my fault, as the higher being laugh at my little clown show in a comically sized universe. Sure, I can make the greatest art that defines the time I lived in, or write an analysis of society that any self preserving capitalist would make sure to ban, or even figure out the deal is with reality as a scientist. But now I don't want to anymore. I don't care. I despise this world, from the laws of physical reality to the fictions that maintain us. Especially those dozens of bullies who picked the most vulnerable to "joke around with", whether it was me or a first generation immigrant.
I have one friend online I talk to, the day I drown myself, I will apologize to him, and him alone. The only person in the world who ever said they cared about me and I actually believed it. Fuck everyone else. Every single one of them, their unholy networks. When I was tripping balls saying "why why why" over and over again, I saw a closed grid, filled with fluid cell like entities. They were all huddled organically in a two dimensional square box, all of them clearly uncomfortable in the current "tight" arrangement they've found themselves in, and it gets worse and worse until at some point all of them are able to move into a new, temporarily more comfortable arrangement at once in an explosive event. Then they're trapped again. It's a never ending cycle that never truly goes anywhere. Perhaps the square was moving with time, creating a 3d object, like the thickness of an animation flipbook, and that is their version of progress. But why? That is what I think describes everything. Reality, evolution, human society. We're all in that box, in that corner asking why.
I like to think I'm going to commit suicide over some profound revelation, as evidenced by what I just wrote. But elaborating all about how shit I am, how secretly evil yet lazy I am, how my life sucks, about every injustice occured upon me, every horrifying moment that stops me dead in my tracks and forces me to blink away tears in a public place, etc., is simply boring for me to recite, for I've ran those circles in my head everyday for as long as I can remember, and it's just annoying. I'd rather be one of the cool kids who kill themselves for a reason you need 200 IQ to understand. Maybe I won't do it. Probably not. Hope I have the strength to do so this time though. Then maybe I'll be a ghost who haunts and rape committers and fascists as a being that has transcended this strangely hellish feeling of sentience.
Anyway, am new here, hi, not sure what the norms are here, or how to socialize at all, hope I didn't break any conventions. Like me asking right now "what do you think of this drawing I made?".
