Every time I think I'm getting meaningfully better I get anger jumpscared into "i really am the same huh, damn" same issues every time, no real solution to be found. i WISH I could enjoy fun games. i WISH i could just play kirby 64 and be happy. but i get bored. and i get sad. and I can't stand being outside my room. and I can't stand being in my room. everything is alien and harmfull, even in my own home. the only time I can enjoy anything is if i'm able to leave my own skin, by greedily and hungrily consuming media. Very few games can do this, webcomics can, visual novels can, and competetive multiplayer games can. where i set the pace, or interactions are constant. give me time to breathe and i'm thinking of killing myself. not even kidding, alone with my thoughts for SECONDS, NOT MINUTES, NOT A MINUTE, SECONDS!!!!!!!!! and I'm idolizing blowing a whole through my head. right through my eye. it'd be so easy man, everything would be solved. BUT there's video games, and twitter, and brain rot, and cats. hdeonisitic pleasures are my will to live. hope for the future is a cope i came up with so my grandma wouldn't be weirded out. i don't WANT to change. i don't WANT to do anything! I'd say i just want to sit inside all day and play video games but I HATE THE TOO!!!!! nothing is fun, nothing has ever been fun, and nothing will ever be fun. i can't enjoying if i do them regularly, and I don't enjoy hoping from hobby to hobby. death is the only way to escape the hedonistic treadmill, but sometimes the treadmill slowsdown and walking is nice. NOTHING is sacred though, my head isn't safe and i can't leave it. sorry to everyone who has had the displeasure of interacting with me the 33% of the time I'm like this. I wish i could say i didn't mean it but this is like layer 3 of 5 and it's the most real anyone gets. even I don't know what layer one is lmao, i just know even my psychoanalytical jabs at myself are couched in some irony. I hate it man, I well and truly do. I WANT to enjoy things, in just can't, at least not for long. maybe that's what layer 1 is, pure and raw HATRED. HATRED for the other, and HATRED for the self. Sometimes I just get angry, angry at NOTHING. and all I can do is walk, maybe punch the couch for what little it does (god i hate that couch). i WISH i could just break the cycle. i also wish there was someone who could help, but internet people either are A.untrustworthy or B.have no good advice (there is only one person who is B and we have been over this before, sorry buddy you said it yourself). I appreciate the olive branches from everyone but I know I;ve said too much before and i can feel the judgement behind the screen, actual miracle anyone continues to talk to me if they've read my malding. I really do appreciate it but I doubt ANY advice could really help me now. If the best a therpist can tell me is "distract yourself" and LIVING IN constant distractions is just building on the problem I don't know what i can do. Not like I can move to the woods, I know myself enough to say i need to talk to people regularly. born to be an extrovert, forced to hate everyone and everything. forever paranoid i'll slip off the tight rope and lose everything, testing fate by leaning too far to one side when i feel like this. If I fall to my death, surely I won't be afraid anymore right? and yet despite all odds I stay on, pushing and pushing and by the grace of god I'm not dumped into the void. Maybe it's jesters privlege, maybe it's pity, but they keep putting up with me. shoutout xillow and akki. I'm pathetic. Clinging to every word in every conversation I'm ever a part of, checking and rechecking to see if a response is there. I think that's why I've been browisng /snoot/ so much. every updated message feels like it's just for (You) and every (You) is extra special. it fills a hole, and it lets me mindlessly check it. Impersonal wall of twitter for you, and the personal corkboard of 4chan. Makes it all too easy to never do anything. I feel like im doing things, but alas i am not. I guess when i go out twice a week I am, going to the races tommorow, yay i guess. I want to say i have nothing going for me but the truth is I have EVERYTHING going for me, friends, family, future plans, it all feels fo fake though. Like it just feel in my lap, nothing I have is my own. No matter how hard I work it feels like nothing, maybe because I've never done anything hard in my life. It SOUNDS impressive at least. I have it all, and for that I have nothing. stab my eyes out with pencils and call me a good boy, nothing is real!! i hate my brain dude, not a SINGLE redeeming quality. all i have EVER heard from others is "nice", "funny" and "smart". I am NONE OF THOSE THINGS. I can pretend to be nice, put on a nice face, and I suppose it's effectively the same thing. hard to take it as a meaningfull thing when it's the bare minimum and FEELS fake. What would I care if you died? i'd just be sad you can't entertain me anymore. all my "jokes" are either unintentionally or schrodingers asshole irony poisoned slop. i say words, i don't mean words, and i don't tell jokes. it's optics, i jsut have good ones. let alone anyone calling me smart. "wowie he ditches once a week and passes with bs!!" what happend to "don't judge a fish on how it can climb a tree"? I just play the system right. Nothing too it, really. All my "ideas" are stolen, not even stolen AND repackaged. i can lie, that's the one thing I can do well. and no one worth their salt would call THAT a virtue. i am a dishonest person on all levels, and BRIMMING with hatred. the ONLY emotion i can FEEL anymore is RAGE. any sadness is dull, and happiness is hollow and fleeting, and desire is so low lying it may as well not even exist. nothing IS aside from RAGE. Once i said my mind has walls of lead, nothing gets in, nothing gets out, and i'm poisoned all the while. the rage reflects off the walls. the hatred festers and rots. at everything, and everyone. at times i feel i have the self restraint of a thousand men, to not punch a hole clean through my wall, or my brothers skull. but at times like this i feel i have the self restraint of none. i weep and moan into the NOTHINGESS. I pray no one will see this, so that I may writhe without judgement. I pray that all may see this, so that I may be pitied and helped. this is a cry for NOT help. I want you to WATCH and I want you to WEEP and I want you to LAUGH. Laugh with me, laugh at me, it's all the same. i AM the fool. infinite possibility, 0 potential. keep me chanined to my computer so i may never harm another soul. set me free from my computer, so I may change a million souls. I write, and write, and write. i come up with "clever" metaphors, I write small bits of "prose". I have NOTHING good to show for it. anything "creative" i have EVER done is by chance. In 6000 words 5 are sure to be poignant. In 600 photos 6 are sure to be good. my retardation knows no bounds. nothing is sacred, nothing is special, i have no upsides, no talents, no hobbies, NOTHING of note and NOTHING OF VALUE. and yet i persist, because i am a SELFISH BASTARD. I want CONSUME and so I do. to the detriment of all involved. I wish to be free of the system, but the system is life itself. I am far far FAR too AFRAID to relinquish that this early. my ONE aspect, that i think. for all i know and for all it matters all other are simple flesh automata, build to keep me here, enthralled, and trapped. the matrix mixed with saw, power through my misery. the SECOND i escape, the SECOND i die, i am WORTHLESS. and yet keeping me happy and content gives them NOTHING. they FEED off my PAIN. they FOSTER my RAGE. and they FOSTER my FEAR. I just realized where i got the capitalization from. it's from gamzee, he talked like this. honk honk then i suppose, a bard is a bard is a bard. i lose my mind, as one does. I lose, as one does. simple as. and yet i keep keeping on. DAMN YOU KURT COBAIN, DAMN YOU FEAR, AND DAMN ALL THE PEOPLE WHO DARED TO SHOW ME THE TIME OF DAY. IT COULD HAVE BEEN SO SIMPLE. I COULD BE DEAD BY NOW. but alas, I am a pussy. A coward in a mans skin. i have NOTHING. I am NOTHING. i will always BE nothing. a worthless husk scrapped for parts and misery. surrounded by even faker constructs designed to take it from me. i guess thats how i stay on the tightrope, right? The poles slot in so I CAN'T FALL OFF!!!!!!!!!!!! does this count as a manifesto? or is it too short, it lays everything out, my delusions, my thoughts, my fears, my HATE. written all out on twitter.com, and transfered to neocities with a ctrl + x. very funny, really. it's all so very funny. i'd laugh at myself if i was someone else. hell I laugh at myself and i AM myself. I encourage you to do the same. PLEASE message me making fun of this. I AM BEING 100% SERIOUS WHEN I SAY THIS! I WANT YOU TO DIRECT MESSAGE ME LAYING IN TO EVERY. SINGLE. POINT. IN THIS HEAP OF TEXT! I WANT TO BE PROVEN WRONG, I WANT TO BE SHOWN HOW STUPID I AM. I want proof people read these. I have NOTHING. So FILL THE VOID WITH JEST AND JAPES. COME ONE COME ALL AND LAUGH. LAUGH AT THE PITABLE HALF MAN! LAUGH AS HE PACES HIS CELL! LAUGH AS HE FAILS TO GQATHER THE NERVE TO BEND THE BARS! LAUGH, AND LAUGH, AND LAUGH AND LAUGH. THE ONLY RECOURSE IN A WORLD OF HATE IS JOYLESS MIRTH!!!!!!!!!!!! I NEED to kill myself, but only to the same degree I NEED to jerk off. baseless desire to fill the void, it's just one is constant with every breath and every thought. "i hate myself" is a space filler. "a gun on the eyeball would be so nice" is second nature. everywhere in my psyche i YEARN for release. and yet I can't allow it to myself. The top layer of irony and rot denies me such an easy existance. they say everyone has depth,i'm the tank at seaworld. mimmick an ocean, with none of the allure. my delusions are base and bland. my hatred is easily defuse. my quips are generic and trite. i can't even be insane in an entertaining way. that's why it's funny right? 10000 charachters of NOTHING. just worthless whining, and nothing to show but a neocities with 20 visits. I'd say kill me know but I know you all are pussies. Whatever, another day another dollar. another week another mental breakdown inside my head. it's just word, it's so blase now. it's all passe. it's ALL been DONE BEFORE. what WORTHLESS DELUSIONS. NOT OF GRANDJURE, NOT OF TRUE PERSECUTION, JUST A SENSE OF MISTRUST AND UNREALITY!! I need to "escape" and "break the cycle" but doing this I would cease to be, or at least cease to be as I am. take out the base and the building crumbles. I have NEVER been well.i was suicidal in 3rd grade, i was crying near daily in 2nd, i was leaving the class in kindergarten, i was smashing toys in preschool, i was running away as a toddler. i just can understand it slightly better now, and i can hate myself for it, and i can hate myself for my distractions from it too. I want to slit my own throat because I couldn't solve a damn math problem. I had nothing but the perception of others, once I began to mistrust the others, their existance, I had nothing. and in it's place nithing but rage has grown. i want to smahs my phone in half, eveyr day, the urge comes to me, and passes over. every day i do nothing with my phone. i am weak, i have always been weak. therapy made me weaker. she spoke of controlling my anger, she spoke of keeping it inside. I feared consequences, not for a respect of authority, but because i would be sad if couldn't watch tv. my life has revolved around material goods forever. I have no doubt in my mind about this. All my "friends" at school treated me like an oddity, because i was one i was "popular" sure. but i refuse to believe it was of my own merits. I was made the victim of japes. lied to without relent. i trust NO ONE. i should have trsuted no one then. EVERYONE is out to get you, you know this. i write this to myself really, because I know no one else is real. and yet i treat them like they are. because i PRAY they are. I WANT something better. I always have and always will. I WANT escape into a better life, no matter how fake. i have nothing of my own anyways, so let me at least have nothing be NICE. alas. i'd say i weep, but i have no tears left to cry really. used them all up in elementary, and kept using them as i got em until now. the well has run dry. i drill hatred from the mud where sadness once ran. I'd say i am going to lose my mind, but if i haven't yet nothing will make me. i have contingency plans after all. i have safety nets. i canh pull a mae borowski is college sucks. i can join the army if welding is a bust. i can drive around the country homeless if i need too.i will NEVER run out of things on my to do list. and because of that i may never day, and because of that i HATE. if i'm lucky one day i'll kill myself and let my body sink to the bottom of the ocean. If i'm not i'll get married, have kids, work a good job, and retire. i pray i get the nerve to kill myself. a life with kids just sounds too nice, i'm undeserving. god i hate myself, i'm running out of words. I think this counts as a manifesto, a manifest of my mind on html. A manifest of the only man alive. A manifest, to destiny and death. I'm sorry