Hitaru

I'd love to give it a try. Did you publish anything already? Almost, ALMOST THERE. I've been working lately with a dedication I've never put on anything else in my life. My efficiency is laughable, but I shall press forward. I do have a text published in my former high-school website (the year I was actually attending), a contest I won the second prize (my first remunerated work! :D) and has a funny story behind it, it was never intended to be taken seriously, just a bunch of grand words put together. I guess the prize was a praise to my unusual knowledge of outdated vocabulary? Why not, I'll leave it below, but I already warn you, it doesn't make too much sense, or at least the sense it seems. Here goes. (It's in Spanish, obviously) Just the first word is so ancient and out of place it's obvious its original purpose was a joke. But I kept going and hey, it wasn't so bad at the end. I was just discovering Rimbaud and he was some sort of teenage hero for me, yeah, laugh. And so the text is kind of (purposely) rimbaud-ish. Some inner jokes to my childhood, a hidden message to my crush at that moment and there you go, literature! Words are fascinating. At least that's what I'd want to say. Reading it again I can relate, many years later. I see hidden meanings. Maybe I wasn't talking about a girl, but a hidden ambition. Maybe it was a subtle cry to take notice of something now I'm more able to see. I'm falling in my own trap, maybe that was the real joke set by the past me. Who needs weed when you have my mind, egad...!

Fantastic talk. I used to know the latter Alan Watts: eccentric, stereotypical sage image, but this earlier exposition is very well done. I'd like to ask Mr. Watts something, if I may (it's going to be complicated given his personal circumstances): In my case, I find time works as the circle he described. The first stage, the time of growth. The second stage, the time of settling down. The third stage, the autumn, the time of reflection. The fourth, the time of shriveling up until we depart and fade. See that this applies to the average first-world life; the stages of life. Thinking about it, it doesn't really matter how you live and die, the proportion of the stages would keep the same, with the first the longest and going down until the fourth, the shortest, just varying in the actual time that would pass. I didn't know that concept, and I think it's going to stay within me, I liked it. Given this, my current attitude would be foolish, worrying about the fourth stage and beyond when I find myself in the first. But also, and perhaps being around a nurse has helped, I see that time only goes to worse, at least in terms of physical decay and the issues that come with it: isolation, illness, passing away of loved ones, financial problems, dependence, etc. Therefore I have nothing to expect from the future besides idealized succeses, achievements, wealth, relationships... In this sense, isn't planning, hoping and looking forward a good thing? It's true that there is a tendency of looking at the future and the past. Romanticizing, regretting it, fearing it, we spend most of our actual time away from the only real, tangible one: now. But is also true that past, present, and imagined or expected future share one characteristic, which is also the only one they could ever agree on. In all of them, we exist; in death, we don't. That's the only difference. Buddhists would say that I'm suffering (the concept of dukkha in his various degrees) because I have the "Illusion of self" too ingrained within myself. Besides of education, western influence and personal views, it could even be a genetic circumstance, inherited from my parents. Whatever the cause (though it could be really interesting and educational to find out) the answer would be something in the lines of working towards getting rid of that illusion. Seems clever, to be honest. Here's the con: For what I know of myself, the only form of energy I know is completely self-related. I mean I can't or don't know how to motivate myself to work towards something besides myself. Even selfless acts of charity and cooperation leave a remnant of endorphins; even helping and being nice feels "selfishly" good at the end of the day, so there's nothing in this world that can be done for reasons completely beyond myself, even if I can't control the reward system behind it. I'd say it works the same for everyone else, think about it. Why do I say this? Because if I'm part of the endless stream of the Universe and not an astoundingly improbable singularity, why do anything? Why quit gaming? I could just lay back and enjoy myself until the end, couldn't I? Why bothering? >muh reincarnations Ah, the good ol' religious viewpoint again! Sorry friend, got nothing against you, but that ain't gonna work. There's the opposite option also: If I happen to be so self-centered, introspective and even arrogant and megalomaniac, why not just exploiting it? Humor the role I got by chance. That sounds dangerous, I'd be acting being completely aware that I got nothing to lose. And humans who got nothing to lose become monsters. It just works that way. I realised this long time ago, and I may or may not have decided at that time that I would avoid myself and others trouble by not following that path. Now it knocks on my door again, proclaiming itself to be the only way out. Well, worst case escenario, there was a Hitler already, and I give originality its proper credit. Did you know I share three letters in order and in a row in my surname with this guy? And man, that's a bit difficult, taking into account my own surname only has four. I also share names with at least two dictators and my teachers have been suggesting my future is in politics since I was 5. But I'll always insist, despite how much I'd enjoy to host ridiculously gaudy and over-budgeted military parades and appear in children books, exerting violence it's plainly clichéd. And, uhm, wrong. Could there be a peaceful way to opposition to just give up and step aside...? I have a winning personality after all. Summarizing, since I've been always scared and passive, I personally think the proper way would be to feed my ego with achievements like a fish, ballooning it until it blows up or deflates when I realise the old scheme of achieving mundane goals has stopped working, its natural lifespan finished. Then, rechanneling that energy into making my existence flow like water. The thing is to carefully manage it to avoid trapping myself in a downward spiral of narcissism, closed-mindedness and assholeness. At least I'm not defusing bombs. Fair enough. Thoughts? I'd truly appreciate them!

So these days I've been struggling with my detoxes and starting my new activities, with different results. I've lost count on how many days without playing any of my Steam games (Yes!) but I've been playing the geopolitical simulator every now and then (until today, even without being stolen is buggy as hell so screw it, I have better things to do). About nofap... well. I'm doing just fine with the noporn, so at least I'm putting my imagination to work. Which led me to a way of channeling my wicked lust (personal judgment) I've being delaying to try out since puberty: Writing erotica! Not porn. Porn is coarse, vulgar. Also not GoT (TV series) or the new Spartacus. I want to do Plot with sex; not Sex with plot. It may be shocking. But works. Everything begun when I found an old text I left half done. It was a bet with some female friends while talking about yaoi (gay romance, japanese term), years ago. I saw it had potential and I jumped head first into it. I've spent these days writing this one and some more stuff (worksafe material too) and I'm unspeakably excited about it (NO PUN!). Even better, the more time I spend with my hands away from myself, the more I'm able to write, both in quantity and quality. So when I fail and have a relapse it also delays my work, and I'm starting to see that I hate having my work delayed. The goal is publishing and maybe even make some name and money on the way. I have a business plan already, I'm sorry I can share it yet. If it works, you will know! (I'd find flattering if anyone of you read any of my stuff by the way, but language differences may make it difficult) - But not everything was going to be good news: Today, I must confess that I cried. I never cry. I've been feeling really down these days, overwhelmed. As both Cam and Marchosias stated, too much to not do but too little to do. The fun thing is, the more I try to do things, no matter how scarce, the more anxiety keeps knocking on my door. "It's pointless" "Pointless" "POINTLESS" SHUT UP! So I lost track of my sleep schedule once again. Played a bit of that simulator I mentioned. Monday tomorrTODAY, it's 5am, have drawing classes at 4pm, gotta catch a bus, haven't slept, haven't practiced. Probably going to bail out. If I say I can't go today, I'll probably won't go next week, then goodbye. Then down again the roller-coaster goes. So here I was todaynight, on the mud, about to masturbate, then spend all night awake with some YT shit. But first, some background: I wrote Cam some days ago and offered myself as spanish translator. I thought he would be skeptical since my time here was short, but he seemed really enthusiastic with the idea. I've been translating but I haven't send him anything yet, and I was feeling guilty because, even without a deadline, I was here lying in the sofa unable to make myself just survive through another day and there was (and is) WORK to do. And adding my own worries also, my head's been a mess. So, some hours ago I was watching some videos, you know this Facebook emotional-motivational spam. I try to avoid them all I can, but I must have some kind of emotional flu today, who knows. There's the background, now goes the trigger. I don't know if it was divine inspiration, but I mindlessly decide to browse this forum after many days. I enter and see a message. It's Cam. I haven't tell him anything but if I may, I want to share it: Whoa, what's this thing going down my cheek. I laugh. Then another. I should write him back. But wait, I have to stop this ridiculous sobbing first, which I can obviously stop anytime. Ok, seems that it's not so easy. I'm such an attention seeker, I just want to stop crying to write about me crying, but let's cry a little bit more first, it's healthy. Leaving aside the obnoxious fact that I just fucking can't feel as real anything that I feel, ...how could I inspire anyone? It was an obvious idea, it's not such big deal, sure someone else have told him that before. Inspired. Like, I did something which bring about consequences. Inconceivable. People read this stuff. And they care. Whoa. Hopes I'm doing well. No one in my everyday life ever say that to me, some because they take my existence as a given, others... well. I say it sometimes to buy a bit of time from the people I want to see soon but I can't muster the courage yet. So what does he mean? I just... don't know what to feel. I... sorry, anything I say feels forced. I was sure about what I had to say just 30 seconds ago. This swing makes me feel deppressed and scared. And furious of not being able to express it. Anyway, fuck it, fuck the swings, the autism, fuck it. Thank you. That will be a good start. But I do remember something. Maybe I'm not good with this kind of words, but there's something else I can do. As Denzel Washington would say in Flight, No more lies. Classes tomorrow? Tough it out. I'm fucking going to fucking do my fucking shit. Panic? Tough it out. Death? Tough it out. What else could I do? My samurai metaphor doesn't fall too far away. It's being a flight forward, a desperate charge against an overpowering foe. How could they handle it? Maybe because for them, it was not about mastering life, but the art of dying instead. What are they if not the same thing? I know, you're sick and tired of reading the same shit over and over again. Me too. If I can't convince myself that life deserves to be lived laid back and harmoniously, or as we say "without rush but without pause" then I should live it furiously, burning, in a bang. Set a goal, then do it just because, crushing all opposition. Why do I keep failing then!? Fuck! Why having my head overheated doesn't make me hot-headed? Wait! Maybe that about too many changes. You're right, but understand my position, I'm so spineless I didn't even tried to risk in my way of dressing to avoid conflict. I haven't done a single noteworthy thing in 21 years. Currently I'm somewhat understanding I don't need a college degree right now for cash and bitches to magically start rolling in, and I'm not completely over it. I'm still reeling from what I feel like it's been the wasted chance of my whole life, so it's being hard. It's hard to not feel frustrated. It's hard not to rush. It's hard to not kick that door and just run, run somewhere, do something, now! It's so hard I barely have energy left for anything else. Or maybe I'm just lying to myself, but anyway, I'm exhausted. In fact I said when I first came here I'd tell that story, the one about my greatest mistake. I think now would be the perfect time. But that needs yet another post, so I'm going to wait a bit at least. I'll experience several mood swings meanwhile, so a shower and perhaps a nap would be appropriate. I'll be back soon.

Another one to the list, thanks again! Man, you've had the full pack! Anxiety, self-esteem issues, panic attacks and other things I can't remember now but I also relate with them. I'm not completely sure if you support people in auto-pilot mode or if you really had all those problems in my same or higher degree (online paranoia probably related to my own poor self-esteem, nothing to worry about here citizen). If the first, you've got some dedication to keep up with everybody and that's honestly impressive from my life perspective. If the second, then I'm jealous of your success in something I should really be able to overcome (wait, should I?). Or at least I'm going to be if I give it a second deeper thought, but it's not a negative jealousy whatsoever so it's just uselessly floating over there in my mind. I guess? Anyway your attitude is admirable. W-wait, you said recently? So they don't go away!? Day 15 - Tuesday Day completely wasted laying in bed all day. After the success of being able to go to the first drawing class, I guess it was some kind of... that thing that happens when something happens in the exact opposing measure to balance the cosmic energies... or something. Another yay for my English, people! (Oh, I left this here for later and it was waiting for me, sweet!) Day... 20? I had a breakdown these days. I've been almost literally using the bed to hide from the world, unmoving, from Wednesday to Saturday dawn. On Tuesday at least I got up to eat, but not these days. Not even to drink water, but at least went to the toilet. Probably. Had some cool hallucinations and dreams. Nasty and worrisome pains. Then I indulged and binged on a geo-political simulator of very dubious quality. And now I'm somehow here! Gladly, absolutely thankfully. UNRELATED: BACK ON TOPIC - START READING HERE So I've decided, and I can feel some real determination inside me, that I can't just wait in my bedroom to a premature death. Actually I could, but I won't. No sir, I won't. Just for the laugh of it, I'm going to do some stuff. I can already feel my determination fading but I won't allow it. I think I reached the point of no return in existential desperation. It was a very slow development, the average person suffers temporal, short crisis that helps them steer their lives anew. Or they never recover. Not my case it seems. My life's been a crisis from the start so it can't qualify as crisis, but a state of things. BUT NOW I'VE BEEN GRANTED POWER, *Cue evil laugh*, THE POWER OF THE... How could you call it? "Pointlessness", "Uselessness"...? I've been waiting for that moment all my life, when everything would seem so pointless I just stop caring. And then I could do everything I ever wanted because why not. And that would be the beginning of a fulfilling life. Or a busy one at least. In fact I've been at that point before, to a lesser degree, and the results were excellent, so I'm really looking forward to it. So, detailed plan, that is: 1. Detox, hard mode: No games, no YT bullshit, no fooling around on the internet, no porn, no fap. 90 days. I'll do a nice calendar and start marking some crosses on it. 2. 8 hours of sleep, no more, no less, no matter how boring or unbearable it becomes. 3. 4 meals a day, 1 shower a day. Self explanatory. 4. No more running away: A man -women too- gotta do what he says he's gonna do. 5. 1 hour outside everyday, to avoid the void of the sofa/bed These are the bare minimum, the most urgent things to take care of. I accept suggestions of course. Still, I think sticking to these for 90 days will provide me a good basis, it's nothing less than a radical change to my current lifestyle, and still level 1.

HERE GOES THE RANT, YOU CAN IGNORE IT (you should) I've reencountered a childhood friend, one I've been neglecting of my attention for far too long. Ignored, avoided, yet you won't find the slightest bitterness, only a fierce, unattended desire of traveling alongside me. Such kindness! And I'm their host. "They" can be referred to in singular and plural, for they are many in number yet One in nature. No, they are not a deity. No, they're not product of my imagination, but like the two previous things they may exist within me. Ladies (but mostly gentlemen!), I'm most honored to introduce... "Panic Attacks"! Have you ever needed a reminder of why you started playing videogames in the first place? Well; nothing like a good shake 'n twist 'n scream now and then for spicing life up a little. Boring showers, dinners, naps, social calls...? No more! My last panic attack was only minutes ago (increasing exponentially thanks to my snail writing, now hours). They just keep happening, currently twice a day. Suddenly smashing you, like a tidal wave teleported right in front of your face. Now you’re fine, thinking about your stuff, or not thinking at all, then brain activity increases dramatically, just like that. Thoughts become chaotic, and you suddenly feel out of breath. Then everything goes fucking down. You lose balance, so you have to steel yourself or reach some wall or something, or directly sink to your knees. Uncontrollable yelling follows right after. Being raised as middle-class with a bit of expectations of climbing the social ladder, it's a given I never raise my voice. Ever. So you can start to guess how I feel about this particular part of the process. It doesn't matter where you are, what time is it, what are you wearing, or if you're wearing anything at all, you just HAVE to GET OUT, of your body, of your mind, of this reality. But surprise, you CAN'T GET OUT OF LIFE. You ARE going to DIE. So everything is fucking lost, and there is absolutely NO HOPE. The realization is crushing. Utterly crushing. So crushing even jumping out the nearest window seems ridiculously pointless. If you had the strength to stand up properly, that is. This happens in a matter of three to five seconds, so there's no "breathing it out". There's no trick. No countermeasure, no prevention. Anxiety, derealization and nausea don't help either. Usually I'm able to gather my thoughts back after six seconds at worst. I read the usual thing is a minute, so what other people must feel like a terrifyingly intense anxiety attack for me it's like... imagine an old computer noisily freezing, it’s my best guess. It's actually physically painful, as if my brain really stops and resets, damaging nerves in the process. Typically hands, feet and joints. Migraines are also a classic. And there you are, beaten in a back alley of your mind. Personally, after primal fear is gone, my pride takes the lasting wound. Seeing myself crumbled in the floor, helpless, taken by cowardice or whatever foreign sensation outside my usual iron fist control over myself; it just seems comically tragic. So my usual reaction is to literally laugh it off. Out loud, like a maniac. Everything about the situation is just so pathetic, and some part of me deeply enjoys it. I must hate myself with a passion. That reaction is also out of my usual behavioral spectrum, but by that time I don't care. Then, after making me feel like I lost my mind completely, it vanishes. Like that. As if nothing happened at all. Perhaps that's the worst part, when after such a display everything is replaced by an ominous numbness. A constant, ominous numbness. My usual self. Now comes the rationalization: I read or saw somewhere that humans, being the only known species aware of their own existence and mortality, have developed some kind of mental "firewall", essential to avoid triggering an unending fight-or-flee response. This instinctual firewall has been reinforced throughout the ages with social norms, religion, philosophy and so on. This topic(s) truly fascinate me. So what would happen if someone, by some quirk of fate or biology, and a bit of aid of circumstances, was born five minutes closer than your average citizen to an unending spiral of neurological horror? I'm just this close to be completely crippled by this disgusting animalistic panic. Currently I can hold it at bay with the best of my ability, but what will happen as I grow older and approaching the end? It's easy to shrug off a bad feeling when you're young, your skin terse, your movements brisk, your organs healthy. No one else around me seems to have this problem, or they hide it quite efficiently. I prefer to think myself special or “cursed” rather than incompetent, it would make me overtly bitter and jealous of Humanity's ability at not giving a fuck. I was there before and being an infuriated piece of shit shares a big similarity with being a presumptuous piece of shit: they are both equally useless in getting me close to a solution. So I prefer the second one. I also have something like a natural talent for it. Here comes the boast, triggered by a sardonic response to depressive line of thought (mood swing): My existence is one of struggle, just to avoid falling in a pit of complete despair. That would be a most displeasing outcome, despair leads to erratic behaviour and therefore madness by civilised standards. So I keep myself in line with everyone else instead of just running away to live in a forest or secluded buddhist monastery. Or singing in the street naked. Only because I need a bit of collaboration of society if I ever expect to get anything done. Speaking of which, being constantly smashed in the head with the futility of life has imprinted my character with increasing arbitrariness. Nothing seems about right by itself. This means I won't be able to buy any spiel about religion, traditions, social norms, patriotism or any "imposed" values anytime soon. I deeply regret the fact: they are great "purpose boosters". Life is whimsical, but I've come to like it that way. It also means I'll have to choose everything, instead of just letting myself "flow" in the river of life. And freedom of choice is not as liberating as one might expect. Fortunately there are dilemmas that solve themselves. Killing everybody? Why, I'd never want to expose anyone to the same fear I suffer. Besides, living beings are interesting and I'd rather make them worship me, only because it'd be more challenging. Taking over a country and installing a reign of terror? Please. Overused meme. I'd rather win some elections, making yourself appear smarter, wittier and more qualified than somebody else surely must bring an almost sexual pleasure. So that kind of crazy is discarded. It's funny though. I used to have strict ideas and morals. I just had an obvious answer for about everything. There was only one way of doing things closest to perfect - mine. Now I feel I just wanted people to acknowledge me, ideally as superior. Presumably like every bullied lad out there. Maybe I still want that, even if I find it childish or shameful. Maybe one of the many things holding me down is being overly zealous about third party opinions. Also bullied kid stuff I guess. Why? They, you, us, are nothing but fucking carbon-based conglomerates! Man up, me, for fuck's sake. And now the emotional breakdown: I just want a way out of this. I just want a purpose! I know I can't ask for the panic attacks to go away, so I'm only asking that much. Because, if someone could magically make them disappear, I'd had to devote my life to that person. You can't even start to imagine how serious I'm talking now. Just a purpose. Any will do. Any! And now a sudden light-hearted off-topic nonsense makes its way through my mind to avoid me getting too caught up in my feelings: Then repeat. And that’s my mind in a nutshell. On a normal-to-slightly bad day. I wrote everything in a single time, so basically I've been registering my mood swings as they were progressing. I only wanted to talk about panic attacks at first but... I guess I got carried away. Now it's 7:00 in the morning again, sigh. And today I have to go to vote. Something about some poorly-dressed but surely deadly commies taking over and unleashing chaos, or so TV says. Well, worst case scenario, I have nothing against goose step, victory parades and russian folk songs, so who am I to judge? Wait, I DO have to judge! Crikey! Also why is that the "bad" guys are always better dressed than the "good" guys? That's downright confusing and unfair if you ask me. You surely don't give a damn about any of this stuff, but it was nice to let it out. I have to sweep now and then to avoid bursting.

Two "real" doctors allegedly said I had Schizotypal personality disorder, one in my childhood and the other last year. None told me directly and they never put me under treatment or gave an official diagnosis after many months with me. So to them I must look something like this: . (Source: Spanish Wikipedia. It made my mother cry.) Mom's also alleged answer to the last one: "But he doesn't see aliens...!" and then Doc said it was not a "pure" case, but mixed with other things, such as Histrionic personality disorder. What they both did say in front of me (but not at the same time) was they "never saw a patient as complex and complicated as me in all their years". I must have so many disorders they correlate with each other forming a self sustained cobweb of byzantine complexity, so abnormal it actually shapes its own "normalcy". (Picture taken during my last session) Day 11 (Ongoing 12) I've been writing this post bit by bit during these days, but my mood has changed several times so it's been terribly difficult to keep up. I'm going to stick with a noncommittal, neutral approach in order to forget the least possible: Routine and activities: - Drawing classes confirmed. Starting Monday. - Started dance classes, initially as a favor to a friend (now also teacher), but hey, it's not that bad. - The same friend has talked me into getting a driving license. Let's go for it then. - Probably starting gym soon. - Social events soon. I have a terrible feeling about this one. Also theatre rehearsals have finished until January. I'll miss them greatly. Hours playing/relapses: 4. Consecutive, in a single time, but I can't remember which day. - Also yesterday I spent the night reading a VN and obviously today I spent the day sleeping. I can't properly explain in English. I'll use the terms positive and negative. I've been negative since Thursday. I expect to start being positive again on Saturday afternoon, but since I have a social event it will probably extend until Sunday evening, where it will connect with the anxiety of classes, but since it's the first one, the anticipation will kick forward the positive state, which will prolong most probably until Friday morning. I really have a grasp on how it works now, and I feel very relieved (and proud) on the fact. It took me years after all. Important events abandoned: 1 I should start listing other things, such as "days without eating 3 times" or "days without a shower/going out", etc. Every single little thing seems an insurmountable problem. But I'm in negative mode now, so ignore the depressive tone. In fact, if I was positive I'd probably said "days I've had 3 meals", because language makes a difference. There's a big emotional rant incoming, but first I had to get all this out of the way or I could never actually post anything, praise my organization skills. Things I'm grateful for: - This week, despite what I might say in the emotional rant. I have the feeling I made a step. Maybe that's why I'm so scared lately. Cam was right, new year doesn't start January 1, new year starts now! - This friend of mine. I "pray" (or at least wish) for his happiness and success moving forward from the hellish tribulations of romance and heartbreak he's currently into. - My understanding and open mindedness, my shield and my sword in this gruesome combat against myself. They rust, they falter, but they are everything I have, my only hope, and I love them. And, much more importantly, not just because I need them, but also because I could make a difference in this world with them, a difference in other people's lives. (Do I actually want world's wellbeing to get recognition or out of kindness...? Well, probably it's not that important) - You.

It's hard to recognize where ends my condition and begins me, or vice versa. I have a tendency towards melancholy shared with my parents. That would be fairly safe to label as identity. But I also have other behaviours: unwanted periods of loneliness and isolation, sudden bursts of social anxiety that make me cancel plans and appointments in the last minute, feelings of sadness and grief for no explicable reason, extreme difficulty to focus and find pleasure in anything, even (and more worrisomely) in things I rationally know I enjoy, a constant grey neutral mood, or worse, mood swings between euphoria and despair triggered by human contact. That's what I call "social hangovers", the hangover being a negative state of mind that lasts in time and intensity proportionally to the previous positive state until I stabilize again in neutrality. And lastly, this terrible tendency towards abandoning my own wellbeing, a complete lack of self-preservation instinct. That's the depressive part I'd say. Your title is quite eye-catching too by the way! Day 5 I've spent all the day only in writing this. Maybe a mixture between keeping myself busy expanding limitlessly a single task, foreign writing inefficiency and "background anxiety". I went to everything I was supposed to go, but lacked a bit in the social department (didn't go to one event). That's an improvement. I also kept myself tidy, clean, acceptably nourished and applied for drawing classes, I'm still waiting an answer. There was nothing on TV today and friends have been suspiciously silent, so boredom is slowly killing me. I don't think I'll be able to sleep today, I'm just not tired enough. Given that Saturday is traditionally the social day, maybe I should force myself to go out? But where to go? It's ridiculous in fact, given all the things I could be doing. But... I can't. I don't feel strength, or the "push", to do anything. Uh. Here comes the downer, I wasn't expecting it. I'm positively infuriated now and I forgot everything I spent all this stupid day thinking, so better to stop, before starting to ramble about myself, English language and... God damn it. I'm feeling nauseous. Now would be the perfect time to start playing. But I won't. I'm fleeing the house to spend the night outdoors before that happens. Yes! Nothing like acting a teenager and endanger myself behaving recklessly instead of just doing the easy thing and... erm... That felt good. Translation option in the forum when? I'm chastising myself in a very harsh way and I really shouldn't do that, but I can't help myself. I can't stand my situation, and most of all, I can't stand myself. I hate myself. Not in a attention-seeking way, I'd hate myself alone too (as I did in the past). Well, I said it! Now what? It's always the same, this mood swing, this damned mood swing! When I'm not feeling sad, I'm feeling angry. When I'm with people, I involuntarily mimic their state of mind, have a pleasant time, then go back home, everything becomes a nightmare, then sad again. I'm feeling like I'm losing my mind. Maybe I didn't have one to begin with. I just feel like a human failure. How can everyone else go outside and have at least a miserable life? Why I can't, or better, why I won't allow myself!? Yes, that's the stuff! I won't allow myself! Yes, stand up! Yes, motivate! Yes, change! But then, this stupid voice inside! Always trying to hinder, to destroy me! How can that voice not realise we're not two separate beings, and my ruin would be also theirs? I must be the stupidest person alive if I can't understand something so easy, what a waste of oh so great neurons. I'm so tired of this. What did this post contribute to myself or to anyone? Nothing, nothing at all. Fuck it. I'm only good to complain, complain, complain all the time! Instead, I'm sitting in the couch all day, slowly going insane. Or was I already? You can never be sure, another nice perk of being born so smart. But at least I'm not playing. Yeah, my effort will save Humanity. /rantoff Today I'm grateful for: 1. Not being relapsing 2. Having hands to write 3. Computer working fine I'd also say food and shelter but I usually think having them for granted is making me too comfy in my hellish comfyness. If that's even a word.

Not silly at all, I can relate. Heavily. It's good to know it's a fairly common issue. It pushes me towards trying to find a common solution for all of us.

Hi Bob, happy birthday (with a bit of delay)! As a fellow historical games (hopefully) ex-player, I understand your feelings pretty well. My kind was Grand Strategy. The sense of achievement, the chill of being theoretically (mathematically) better than the greatest leaders, changing history or at least being part of it, the satisfaction of being collaterally exposed to all kind of historical facts and curiosities... And the worst of all, the endless loop of different approaches, possibilities and strategies that keeps you hooked. A real drug. Surely you know about it. I'm not in the best position of giving useful advice, but know I'm specially with you in this one. By the way, I wouldn't recommend abrahamic religions, most interpretations usually have plenty of that "passive" component, unless you want to completely turn the tables and begin some kind of nomadic life (which in my young and naive mind seem like a very appealing choice tbh) Also it's funny how you're overweight and I'm the opposite (what's the word, underweight?) while having both the same problem. Maybe we should reach some kind of agreement or friendly competition? I could really use those 23lbs you mentioned. Keep fighting, good sir! Bewaaaare the big soda bloooob!

You've already recommended me the Sam Harris lecture, it was great! (perhaps could be nicer without that bit of pretentiousness typical of die-hard atheists, but I can't ask for miracles, pun not intended) I'm checking out the rest of the recommendations, thank you again. Day 0.5: 0.5 because I had a tiny, very small relapse this morning. I held myself all I could but boredom beat me. Bad luck, there were holidays these last days, everything and everywhere was closed, so I got stuck at home for days at the worst moment. Fortunately, I've got plans for the rest of the laboral week, but I'll have to improvise something this week-end. I'll be surviving day by day until I'm strong enough to take up some outdoor hobbies, the more I can handle the better. Probably I'll have to do it before that moment arrives. Actually I have some stuff to do here. I have a violin, not the best quality but perfect for novices, an electric keyboard, missing two octaves, so I think I'll stick to the violin for now. I was learning both years ago... but then the same story as usual. I also have books to read, I've been stockpiling lately. And finally some Python manuals, because I'd really like to learn about the Ren'py engine and start making my first visual novels. But, BUT, this house, their inhabitants, it feels like there's an invisible fog that drags me into routine, boredom, despair and games. That sounds "teenager-ish" but it's nothing but the truth. So I think the best move, at least for now, will be to go outside. Being outside empties my batteries, and if I do it too much I usually end with anxiety attacks, "social hangover"... and relapses. Damn it, nothing seems to work as it should! I really am like a naval officer, always "choosing the lesser evil". But all these difficulties add to the fun. They shouldn't, since this situation is anything but fun, but I seem to have inherited some kind of sick satisfaction in being the target of misfortune. Specially if it's self-inflicted. Thanks Mom! When I'm cured and I have a job, I'll take you around the world, like you always wanted. I'm being serious. Enough babbling. I'll report my progress in Friday, when I have sorted out those plans, then again in Sunday. Forward we go! (I saw the veterans writing things they're grateful for in every day they write, so I'm trying that too: ) Today I'm grateful for: 1. My high-school ex-principal and director in the play I'm currently rehearsing. I've explained my circumstances to him because I was absent two days in a row the last week when I was having my big relapse, and he was completely understanding. 2. Cloudy weather. I love it! 3. My healthy liver, I'm pretty sure I'm going to binge in industrial sweets very soon.

This should have started a lot earlier. After my first relapse (yay!) I finally start my journal. So it's day 0 I guess. The D-Day. Or the G-Day. - I've learned some things this week: - I'm chronically depressed since I was 4. Nice. I'm going to have to deal with it, it's part of my identity. - For people fearful of death such as me, life is a box whose walls keep coming closer until they smash you. Good news, if there are, you can't properly measure where are those walls (the "size" of the room), so you may establish an "imaginary end" and arbitrarily gauge the room within your own standards. Yes, the famous comfort zone. I've discovered in my case (perhaps some of you too) I have a tendency to shorten these walls when I'm in a state of inactivity, with terrible consequences. I can always do less, including not showering or eating. Or not even getting out the bed. For days. BUT, the tendency to shorten doesn't apply conversely. I mean, it's easier to me to shorten more as time goes by and size goes down, but it's harder to make the room bigger as time goes by and size goes up. I think I'm naming this phenomena as the Fishbowl Effect. If you make yourself tiny, your fishbowl will look like an ocean. But what happens if you want to expand the glass? It also happens with currency devaluation. But it's just a temporary escape, a one-sided road. So my life it's going to be a constant struggle pushing those walls forward until my own walls meet the real ones, and then keep pushing to slow them down with the best of my ability, willpower, immunitary system and luck, until nature fatefully overpowers me and I die, fighting, like a samurai. Banzai! I guess. There's not other option, really. The japanese also have a term for that: "Shikata ga nai". Clever guys. Several people have stated their disagreement, arguing about some mysterious addictive property that relies in worshiping self-proclaimed achievements, making worthy the act of struggling. Further investigation is required. - And I say self-proclaimed, because: Theoretically you can do anything you want in life, and therefore you're born free. But the only unavoidable limit (besides taxes, like some prominent rebellious colonist said, if I remember correctly) is death. So you aren't born free, you are born dead. Therefore, life has no meaning nor objective besides life itself, keeping yourself alive. And suddenly the value of everything settles in 0. Which is actually a good thing, because you can give things any value you want for no particular, but usually sentimental reasons. But you MUST have a reason in order to make sense of the nonsense, and here enters faith. Not just a religious faith (but is also an option), faith in science, in the progress of mankind, in a prospective personal legacy... and in self-growth. Because, what is faith if not an unexplained hope of things to get better? You may say "I struggle because the alternative is a disaster" and you'd be right (I've never said otherwise) but, wouldn't that be a rationalised flight (even if it is forward)? - ANYWAY, whatever the philosophical or biological nature of this behaviour, I have to pursue and develop this "faith" if I want to motivate myself to do practically anything, and that's going to be real tough. TL;DR: I need a life purpose, a meaning, meaning is personal/arbitrary and I suck making things personal. So I would actually have a great future as a gangster, lawyer, businessman or politician! (and excuse me for repeating myself)

Thank you, really. It's been a rough time these last days, but I'm getting to work the sooner I possibly can. Now with a bit less profanity! I hope.

Then I shall. I'm not very experienced with forums and journals but it shouldn't be that hard. It'll be a good way of motivating myself to do at least one thing worth writing. And maybe somebody could find it useful in the future. I hope this "honesty" turns into righteous anger and strength. I'll try, and we'll see!

My name's Jose. I'm a 21 year old NEET from Spain. Well, where to start... My father was an amateur web designer and taught me how to use computers since I was five. He is also a slob and a parasite, and by that time an abusive alcoholic. My mother was working all day because of that, so I was mostly left alone with my pampering grandma for years. And videogames. My parents were concerned about pedophiles and scammers so I wasn't allowed to play online, be in forums or communicating with the outside world in general. My games were at first mostly PS1 and 2 inherited by my much older cousin when he began a middle-age lifestyle, flash games on the internet and the ol' Game Boy I still own. I was declared with giftedness when I was 6. It's probably the worst thing that happened in my life, and the one that affected it the most. My father was overtly proud of having a "special" son and heir. Asshole. My mother was traditionally weak of character and the whole thing overwhelmed her, like everything else in her life. They followed the advice of doctors and we were invited to join an organization "of people like me" to receive special courses and formation in order to optimally exploit our natural talent. In the end we were just a bunch of pretentious bullied retards. Then one day I was visiting my uncle and he's always been a fan of grand strategy and simulators. By that time I adored him, he was my role model, the "cool uncle" stereotype, and we shared a common interest in military history and being cynical bastards. So there he was playing that gem of Rome Total War, with its dark humor and all its megalomaniac glory. I was never praised for my grades. "It's just your job". "Do I get praise for doing my job?". I was bullied, even by people I thought were my friends, or completely harmless. Supposedly I was a special snowflake, but nobody had the kindness, or the common sense (I developed many theories to understand this "contradiction") of acting accordingly to it. I talked too weird, too pedantic, trying to appear clever, better than anyone else; or so they said. I was never accepted. And it was only my fault. But here, these motherfuckers all with the same face needed ME to command them for fictional world domination! That submarine NEEDED a captain! And each summer I could go to my uncle's place and show him my improvements, endlessly trying to surpass him and achieving his acknowledgment as an equal. His respect. It was magnificent. But then things got out of hand. I started playing more. Compulsively, again and again. Eight, ten hours a day, every day. I stopped studying. Things in school weren't easy anymore. I started failing. Everyone screamed "How could you, being so smart?" My classmates to justify their aggressions. My teachers, to justify their inaction. Mom, God knows why. I wasn't the number one anymore. I wasn't the special snowflake. In fact, I was a failure. Everyone treated me like that, or so I felt. That feeling kept growing and growing. Only videogames remained. Some of you talk about the social aspect of videogames, the rewarding experience of development and achievement, or the endless discovery of new games that keeps you hooked. Well, for me it was literally a drug. Numb myself for all day, with the same games, the same two or three games, always by myself, then going to sleep with regret, angst, hatred and a nasty headache and nausea. I used to be terrified, thinking I probably killed enough neurons to not being special anymore. My only value as a human being was exclusively related to their existence and potential applications. Now my mother treats me like I'm psychologically impaired, my friends just have that knowing smile, "He's just at it again", and I've got nothing to prove to anyone, so I guess it doesn't matter now. Dad left, Mom started growing a pair of ovaries and adolescence arrived. I had an outcast, spiteful phase and a "feigned normalcy" phase. I degraded myself to the extreme in order to be accepted. I was a clown, a doormat. It somewhat worked. I got into anime and games were left for social occasions. And then the dreaded opposite sex (which later became both of them) made their sudden apparition (nobody expected them, like our Inquisition). I'm 16 and I meet this girl, horrible in the outside, all messed up in the inside, but we kind of have an empathic connection, I see part of me in her. So we fuck and we chill and I treat her like my bitch, and she gets her (deserved) revenge making me all alone and guilt-tripping me into a cozy, crazy, codependent relationship. I never stopped playing, mind you. I used dating her as an excuse to stop attending class, until I finally dropped it completely, and things spiraled into a complete nightmare which I somehow got away after two years. I started trying to make friends again. Complete failure. I couldn't even speak properly after two full years of talking exclusively to one person. I still have a bit of stutter from back then. Desperate, I began to pursue one of my passions, theatre. I've had a main role in a play in high-school but nothing else, so I start taking classes. Then a miracle happened, and I entered a Dramatic Arts College in a matter of months (I'll tell how this happened the next time). New town, new friends, new life. It was Heaven. But then all the anxiety, all the social problems, all the spoiled childhood never having to do anything at home, and all the addictions came forth at once. And I dropped it. My God, I dropped it. My whole life, my future, my greatest chance, put there just for me. This happened this year. It's been 7 months again at home, playing games (now it’s the turn of Paradox grand strategy) 16 hours a day. Grandma's ill, she says and does the same things again and again, watches the same news on TV all day and verbally abuses everyone. My mother works all day, not out of economical need now, but to avoid being at home. And here I am. When an obviously senile and delusional woman is still able to call you a loiterer, you should start worrying about your situation. I just… I just can’t deal with this. With anything. I don’t know what to expect. I've told enough information to be easily recognized by any of my acquaintances. What if they find this? Will they mock me? Will they pity me? What if you do? But you know what? Fuck it. Seriously, fuck it. I don't care anymore. I'm afraid, I'm vulnerable. You want to take advantage of me? You want to kill me? Go ahead. I've had enough. My genes and brain are not with me but I have to be brave to get out of this or to jump from a cliff and end it all. I don't feel inclined to one way over the other, whatever comes first will do. It's probably the best option to try the first option first though. So here's my start point. 21 years. No studies. No job. No hope. No motivation. The list goes on. I'm at my lowest moment and I don't really know where to start from here on. I don't know what's going to be me in the next 90 days but I know for sure, it's not going to be fun. Thank you so much for reading. I hope I'll be boring you again very, very soon.