I don’t really know what to title this entry. I have an idea of what I want to write about but I don’t know if I’ve thought it out yet. Writing blogs is a way of thinking through things so I’m going to be posting this whether it’s shittily thought out or not.
I felt pretty shitty yesterday. It’s not often that I can identify the cause of my bad days but yesterday’s was obvious. It wasn’t a big deal. I shouldn’t have felt as shitty as I did, but it’s not necessarily an over-reaction. I already constantly have a huge pile of shitty feelings so when someone tosses a new piece of shit on top of that, I’m not feeling shitty because of the tiny new piece, I feel shitty for the sum total huge pile of shit feelings. …I’ll stop using shit as a metaphor for feeling shitty now cause the imagery would only get worse from here.
So I’ve been living at my aunt’s lately and yesterday, my aunt had a talk with me about my living situation. I hate how people are basically incapable to talk about things honestly. I don’t talk much, but when I ask a question, I want an honest answer. If you just keep feeding me with nice sounding sugar coated polite bullshit, there no point for me to talk to you. Right now, I’m living at my aunt’s house under the guise of helping out around the house cause of my cancerous sickly uncle. That’s the excuse that goes to my parents but in actuality, my aunt believes my parents are very toxic to happiness so she’s trying to save me from them. I keep asking if she wants me around to help out with the little things cause I know I’m not helping her THAT much. She keeps saying I should stay but I don’t know if that’s true or if she’s just trying to “save” me. I don’t need “saving” unless it’s a concerted effort where my opinion actually matters.
My aunt tried to talk to me and get me to think about my future, specifically, how I plan to make a living for myself in the future because I haven’t been doing that yet. I tell her the truth without making a big deal out of it and I don’t think she understands how I feel at all. I’m utterly depressed. I’ve been this way for a while and will continue to be this way in the foreseeable future. Just because I talk about depression with a smile on my face and joking around with it instead of sobbing like a little bitch, it doesn’t mean I’m not actually depressed or that I’m using it as an ultimate excuse to not do shit. Do you want to see me cry? I don’t do it cause nobody wants to see a grown man cry. I’m not a cryer but I’m pretty sure I could cry at will if I just stop holding it back for a minute. That’s an award-winning acting ability and I’m definitely no actor.
Although I’m not working very much these days, I could be doing a lot less. In many ways, I’m quite a superb human being. I am by far the smartest, strongest, and healthiest person I know. That’s mostly because I don’t know anyone. Ranking 1 out of 1 isn’t exactly a feat. I’m not trying to brag here because I’m clearly a failure at life at this moment, being as depressed as I am. Also, I wear glasses so my body is clearly flawed. My point is, I know I’m clearly capable of taking care of myself. I don’t do it because I have no reason to. That’s how grim life has gotten for me. I’m only alive right now because I’m being financially supported. I have no emotional attachment to these people who are supporting me. There’s a part of me that’s hopeful and believes there’s a speck of possibility that I might enjoy life someday. So if living requires very little effort, I’ll live on. I’m not suicidal right now but I’m not afraid to die because there’s nothing I’ll miss.
When I told some of that to my aunt, she likened my situation to her husband’s. There are many days where my uncle suffers so much, he’d much rather die to end the suffering. His siblings insists he lives on. Sure, I understand that my uncle must’ve genuinely wanted to die at some point, many times, but I’m not him. Our minds work completely differently. I don’t give a shit about what people think. I don’t care if other people want me to live. If they’re not actively making my life better, then they’re just in my way. If anything, their nagging for me to live would push me towards death. There’s only two reasons that my uncle hasn’t killed himself yet. Either he’s too much of a pussy to do it, or he wants to live. It’s okay to want to live. (Who’d have thought that sentence would ever need to be written, lol.)
I’m not like my uncle. I’ve got a much stronger will. If I really want to do something, I’ll do it. If I really wanted to kill myself, I’ll do it. It won’t be easy, but I can handle the task. Do I need to prove it? I’m not a cutter and I get no enjoyment out of it. I’ve got a healthy fear of not wanting to wound myself. But I give so little shits right now, I can stab myself in the arm as proof that I genuinely don’t care about my life right now. I would definitely hesitate, but I can do it. It’s like sucking a dick. I know I don’t want to do it, but if I had to, I would need a moment to take a breath and mentally prepare myself before I do it. It’s not physically hard to suck dicks, it’s all mental. Don’t worry, I’m not about to retardedly stab myself in the arm or suck dicks because I’m smart enough to know that it doesn’t matter even if I prove my depression to people.
Speaking of sucking dicks, I wanted to use that as an example for something else. One of the things my aunt talked to me about was to eventually get me to pay the internet bill and develop a sense of responsibility in me. I understand the perceived logic behind that, but that won’t work for me at this point. I’ve got enough money saved up along with the batch of money that’s about to come in with Tek Tactical, a game I’ll be releasing today, that I won’t need to work for a while to pay those bills. There still won’t be any urgency for me to work. By the time it does feel urgent, it’ll close off opportunities for me to attempt entrepreneurial projects like making games. So I would wound up stuck with a shitty job or sucking dicks to pay the bills. Would my aunt really want me to suck dicks to pay her $50 a month? No? Oh, so she’ll let a month slide? What about the next month? Does she want me to suck dicks then? If she doesn’t ever want me to have to suck dicks, then the whole responsibility shit doesn’t work. Ideally, she would want me to get a job to pay the bills and then discover that if I HAD to work, I might as well get a better job and then get a good job that way. But that’s not how my brain works at this point in life. I’d rather suck dicks than get stuck in a shitty job and I’d probably rather die than suck dicks.
Okay… let me see if it’s possible to bring this back to a positive note. Let me assure you that I’m probably not in any danger of suicide or sucking dicks anytime soon. Once Tek Tactical is released, my life will change quite drastically. Not necessarily a positive change, but it’ll change. The projected earnings seem pretty good and I’ll be kept busy responding to user comments. I recognize that there’s a very real possibility that it doesn’t turn out so well. It’s definitely possible that I earn far less than I expect and maybe no one will give enough of a shit about the game to comment on it. If that happens, I will need to seriously consider abandoning game making and reapply my programming skills to more serious jobs. Either way, my life’s about to change pretty soon.
Hmm… That wasn’t positive at all, is it? Let me try again… When I told my aunt that paying bills won’t give me urgency because Tek Tactical will probably cover that for a year, she said that she could just increase the bills for me. If that’s the case, I’ve got no reason to continue living with her. It’s not like I enjoy living here. I’m not complaining. It’s just I don’t enjoy anything. She thinks that less yelling in her house compared to my parents’ along with her daughters’ conversations might do me good. I’ve seen enough of it to know that it won’t do me any good. Again, I’m not complaining, but my welfare is definitely not going to go according to her plan. If that’s the case, I might as well go back to my parents’. My aunt and uncle are retired so they’re home all the time. At least at my parents’ house, they go to work so I get the house to myself all day where I can freely record podcasts and masturbate.
Eventually, if I move out on my own, I’ll probably move to another country. Fuck free health care. I never get sick anyway. Okay… I totally suck at ending this positively. Umm… let me just clarify that I’m not just glooming around my aunt’s house and that I’m currently being a very pleasant houseguest. I’m just looking into the future through my dark depressing lens.