As I don’t attribute to society, only have one friend and am not very close to my family I know my life doesn’t hold much importance. People treat me accordingly. When I was younger I had this idea that it would be different on the internet. It really isn’t, what gets a negative response outside of it gets ignored here. Most people who have been around me for more than, let’s say, 10 hours total experience me as somebody who only bitches, whines and complains about every imaginable thing without any legitimate reasoning. I’m aware that I complain a lot, I’m incredibly stubborn with a lot of opinions that don’t perfectly fit in within the margins of common morality so I’m just annoyed with people most of the time, but complaining isn’t all I do. I get that it’s all people see online because the good things aren’t exactly worth sharing—then again, it’s not like people are more likely to read a story about a good meal I had than this—as they’re mostly very mundane or materialistic things and not much thought goes on behind them; basically, they’re boring. My “negativity”, which is how everybody apparently perceives it anyway, is the only thing remotely interesting about me.
I don’t have any flair. My online personality is just a string of “Dear diary, mood: apathetic” and my outside-internet personality is nothing, nobody. Some empty space occupying a pile of miserable fat that moves the gaping hole in its face without anything to say and does other typical human stuff. My lack of personality is not imagined, a colleague pointed it out when we were talking about people’s looks. Next to that, the boy I had a crush on did his best to point out I was too boring without actually using the word boring. I very much want to choke him, hurt him, whatever. Not because my feelings went rejected because in no way do I blame him or any other person that has done so for that, but because he lied. Not with words, but in no way did his behaviour match up with his words. He kept pushing me away with those, that, while he stayed when everybody had gone and kept me company for hours, letting me lean against him on the couch. Which is the most intimate that I have ever been with a person. I would never blame anybody for not returning my infatuation, though. I become completely mental when I have a crush on people. I hate it in before it happens and in hindsight, but I can’t think straight when it’s already happening. I crush quick and bad, but it’s a route taken on egg shells and it’s usually over soon. It could be worse. I know many people have it worse.
I spend my time staring at a computer screen. I’m fairly sure all the potential I ever had as being a properly functioning person has been sucked right out of me by this piece of technology. I have no motivation for anything. I can think about something as long and hard as I want to but nothing happens. I would say it sucks, but spending somewhere between nine and six years like it I can’t imagine other people not experiencing this problem.
I can’t relate to people any more anyway. I connect to fictional characters on some levels, but humans of actual flesh and blood? How could I feel connected to them? Even in my dearest and only friend, I see cringe worthy human behaviour. Humans are disgusting to me from them hogging up the oxygen to the fact they have to shove body parts into each other to reproduce. Not even to mention any mental factors. Our brains twist reality and we are all so fond of exaggerating unnecessary emotions. Ideally, this whole human behaviour thing should just be an add-on for life that you could turn off if so desired.
Even so, hating on everybody isn’t all I do when it comes to our species. I don’t hate everything we do, even those things I’m disgusted with can trigger a positive response for me. It really just depends on a lot of factors. I enjoy looking at attractive specimen just as much as the next person, I don’t hang over the toilet barfing just because they’re human. I know it’s a rather superficial example, but I can’t think of a better one at the moment. Well, aside from the fact there are humans I respect and look up to. The basis for the latter is mostly envy. Which makes me wonder if there’s anybody who cares about me to the degree I do about those people. Of course my brain instantly tells me there isn’t with the argument that there would be people who would try to make me feel good. But that is a ridiculous argument, isn’t it? People don’t need to express care to feel it. Nobody needs to express anything in order to actually feel something.
It’s another one of those long text posts about things I don’t like. I don’t have anything else, though. This is all I am. These self piteous thoughts without source piled up on a flat, squire platter. Some ground general hatred to spice things up a little. None of it has a good reason, really. I guess a good thing to plant self pity into other people would be to say I got an uncle grabby-hands, but that matter weakens itself greatly when completely truthful; after all, with him being mentally handicapped and never having actually raped me or touch my naked body it is nowhere near as—and I can’t believe I’m using this word because it’s way too extreme—tragic as it could’ve been. It’s nothing to cry about and while I will hate my uncle for it for the rest of my days I don’t believe it shaped me as a person. While my parents are divorced now it’s not like that was a trigger for any daddy issues either. My dad was a materialistic man, but he wasn’t an awful human being. Up to puberty he was a pleasant father albeit he didn’t go along with my sisters super well, but they weren’t his DNA so that’s completely reasonable. When I hit puberty I became too much like him and we kind of detached, our relationship became mostly neutral. I feel it is 90% non-existent now that he doesn’t live in this house any more. I am glad he is gone not because I bear any form of immediate hatred towards him specifically, but he was just a negative influence as he, too, was a whiny little bitch (told ya I was a lot like him now, didn’t I?). I don’t hate him, he will stay my father but I just don’t care. My mother used to be a nice woman. Than she got divorced, started working out more and eating healthier and is skinnier now. She enjoys her “freedom” by being a fucking slut and smoking. She had a couple of serious crushes following each other and easily abandoned when her online lovers, with whom she shares dirty pictures that I accidentally see from time to time, don’t talk to her for a day or more. To me, she now seems more unhappy than ever but I’m sure she doesn’t agree. Slowly, I am disconnecting from her. I’m grateful, in a way. I’m not happy with her lately to an extent that I regret hugging her yesterday. Now that’s something to cry about now, but in no way explains why this feeling has been here for the past six to nine years.
At twenty, in my case, I’m too late with looking upwards and thinking of a bright future. I screwed myself when I did not put any effort into my first year at high school. I took an extra year to get my degree there even though my teacher and dean would argue that it wasn’t necessary. I convinced them by accepting that I’d have a few talks with our school’s social worker. In reality, I was afraid of the future and didn’t want to leave the high school comfort zone of getting away with doing nothing. Then I dropped out of college after less than half a year deciding I actually didn’t like IT stuff and it was too difficult for a brain that wasn’t accustomed to putting effort into things and repeated that with another school in the following year. Now I’m not going to school for a year. People say it’s stupid and that I won’t be able to get back into it but in reality I haven’t been able to get into it ever since I got my high school diploma. However, where I live, just having that one is completely useless. Hence, no bright future. Also because I have no set of skills to leech on. Things I could potentially be good at if I put effort into them are drawing and writing. I wouldn’t even dream to make a job out of either. I don’t like my own work and I’m not motivated for anything so I’ll never get better at them.
At eighteen I got my first job (not counting delivering flyers for about three months when I was fourteen) and after two years they’re not sick of me yet. I will probably be fired next year because a little bird told me the process is going to be automated and we will not be needed any more. Considering that my colleagues are mostly middle aged ladies who like to act a little crazy at times, the work is quite bearable. The easiness of the job itself and the undeserved high pay certainly add to that. The knowledge I’ll use this job and am not likely to find anything like it afterwards is rather depressing indeed. I ought to save, but I’m terrible with money.
To be noticed, I think I should do something terrible. That can go in a number of ways, none of which are likely to happen. I’m too much of a passive person to go and kill just anybody unless it becomes a solution to a problem that really hits me in the face, which hasn’t happened yet. I do not have the willpower to go through the effort of suicide either and I am also afraid of physical pain. I have a pathetically low pain threshold too. That concludes that I will never reach a desirable level of “being noticed” and I shall remain without the attention I need. Thus, I will remain unsatisfied. It’s just a loop. Maybe I make myself sound special, which would be unintentional. I know that many go through this. The difference between me and half of those people is that they have real problems. Another difference is that I choose to whine about them, possibly also to get attention. Inside me lives some pathetic idea that I would get that with some long ass text post that isn’t interesting in any way and of which I have no idea if people actually read it or not.
But really, it might just be the only reason I am truly here. This is the only site where I might possibly get desirable response as, while I’m sure you all have a legitimate reason to feel the way you do, you probably feel sad at least half of your time too and sad people are just better at talking to sad people.
In any way, I at least know that you are familiar with the desire to disappear.