The problem I have with assholes is that they wake up my monsters. The monsters that I shoved as far down as I could, and starved, and almost killed myself trying to starve them, and moved myself to the country with one of the lowest crime and aggression rates on this planet, and with people who keep wide personal distance and don’t shove themselves in your head just for walking by, and with one of the strictest outside manners, and I made myself weak and surrounded myself by docile things just to keep my monsters sleeping, and it takes 2 seconds of some random assholes to get my monsters to raise their heads and… it’s just sad. Helplessly sad.
- Learned a new word a few days before.
憤死 (funshi) – dying in a fit of anger or indignation.
Love how there’s actually a separate word for that.
- Amused by the culture where people believed it was easier to tell who was the father of a person, than who was the mother.
After reading a number of biography notes starting “A son of B, mother was supposedly C.”
- Heard people discuss a ‘dad dating’ game… with only appearing characters (as far as I saw), being the dads and their teenage daughters.
Still didn’t bring myself to look it up (because scary, not knowing the actual name), because I really couldn’t tell who was supposed to be dating whom in that combination.
It always amused me how easily we accept that we live in a world where ‘depression and suicidal thoughts’ are listed as a side effects of the medication which you take against the depression and suicidal thoughts.
It’s a small example of a big world-standard pattern, but I hope some will get what I was trying to say.
sometimes I can’t believe how much easier life can be if you can agree to be a liar
I learned that reading customer communications from gamers could be a rather fun job to have.
One of them included a phrase ‘my game is european virgin’ and other one had spelling mistakes in practically every single word longer then 4 syllables.
things that distress me on an airplane: smell; sleeping spread out in the aisle seat and not letting people out; putting things and extremities outside the space allocated to your seat; kicking my seat or jumping around and touching me in any way.
things that don’t distress me at all: reclining your seat towards mine; pets.
me: I need a big dog. So it will protect me and walk me.
mother: don’t get a dog so it can perform the functions of a man
me: no, I need a dog so I won’t need to ask a man to perform functions of a dog
It’s half of the problem when you feel like you’re still 16, when you haven’t been for many years already… and then there’s the half when you meet relatives who think you’re still 12 and give you a princess colouring book as a present.
… I really really didn’t know how to react.
I can’t really be surprised by all the hate, when everyday I see the ‘majority’ of people being excited about and loving things filled with meaningless violence, gore, and hurt… (I’m not saying games/books/movies make people violent, I’m simply saying that perhaps when most of your acquaintances saying they are ‘in love with them’, it’s sort of a big fat warning sign… when you see them not question themselves why they enjoy watching violent and abusive things done to other beings.) But damn, sometimes it’s just hard to want to live in this world when you get your head out of the sand and look around once in a while. Personally, I had to learn 5 languages and travel to the other side of the globe, just to be able to see ‘more’ at all times, to see as many good sides as I can too. But damn. It’s hard. All this nasty stuff about humanity… is all too hard to unsee.
I have only 2 days left until my vacation.
And I thought I was fine. I thought I had a scheldule, a plan of things to not forget to do before I leave. I had an image of how to get through this week.
Now I have only 2 days left and out of nowhere I’m having humans-related groundless anxiety attacks multiple times a day, and don’t know how to survive these 2 days without going mad.
And I’m forgetting all the things I had to remember to do, and only grit my teeth praying for the time to pasd quicker and release me.
when I miss dead people very much, I steal them and write them into my book
though secretly, so that hardly anyone but me can tell who they are
and yet, I then have them. And they live in my world.
there are days when I’m amazed by the modern technology and the ways in which it helps human lives
and I like having my phone that helps me find any information I need wherever I am and many other useful functions
and I love how technology allows me to reach anywhere in the world, and learn
there are even days when I wish for some even more amazing things in our life (like a faster way to travel to the other side of the world)
and yet, most of the time I kinda wish I could still live in a world with no smartphones, computer games (says one working with game development and publishing) and many other things that feel like they distract us from things that should matter more
People keep telling me how they would never have guessed there’s something ‘not right’ with me, because to them I seem spirited, cheerful, laughing a lot…
What I can’t really explain to them that laughing is my coping mechanism numero uno. That I was brought up in an environment where showing weakness meant pain and humiliation, and that I am known for walking around normally and smiling, with an injured knee and an intestinal obstruction at the same time (after I was laying down on the floor in bathroom 5 mins ago). That my ‘problems’ and chronic stress don’t mean that I am going act all weird when talking to people. In fact, as for many females with ASD, it means exactly the opposite. It means that my body will use every ounce of energy I can squeeze out of myself to appear as normal as I can, and that I likely will talk to them with no memorable for them problems, but then when I leave, or come home, I will feel like my mind is full of acid and will try to hurl it out, even though it is not in my stomach. I will obsessively and uncontrollably replay every second of every conversation in my head over and over, thinking of all things I shouldn’t have said, should’ve said but didn’t, could’ve said differently… and stressing out about every word. Until I can’t sleep. Until I crawl up the walls and want to dig my eyes out. And how I can’t control it, how the only way I can survive it right now is to hide it so deep inside I won’t be able to act on any of my impulses, which means stopping moving at all. And how it prevents me from doing anything else I should or want to be doing, because I have to spend hours sitting in one place waiting for a storm to pass more than half of days I had to go outside.
Opened utube window that was not logged into my account for once and showed me the ‘common’ front page.
And the first thing I saw was the ‘Let’s fry MacBook as tempura’ video with over a million views…
Why, human beings, why…
I’m not a person with much attachment to the word of living myself.
And I know the sight and the smell of the abyss that can make you end your own life very suddenly,
without actually waiting for you to make such a decision.
So I know, when it comes to it, the truth is there is no reasoning or rationale involved in the matter.
Sometimes it’s just a matter of a second that went wrong.
And yet it’s also like a hard slap to the face.
And stings like a bitch.
Seeing someone who you somehow thought to be so much stronger than you in this,
lose to the same thing they were helping (by their existence) you fight for more than half of your life.
A piece of soul was torn out. The world is shifting to find new balance. The view is changing.
I’ve been thinking about many things, even if I did not mean to be thinking.
About words that are so familiar, too familiar, they stir the terror of ‘do we really have no chance to fight this, if it took even him’ somewhere deep inside, which I try to promptly block off.
About families. Because the thought of those left behind paralyses me. And the understanding that even that might be not enough, makes me ask ‘is there anything that really is?’
About loneliness. Because we laugh when we ask for help, and those who listen laugh back, nod, and turn away. Because, the way we live now, even the closest people are distant, we all leave in our personal bubbles. And people recognise the cries for help only in retrospect, and fairy godmothers/fathers who’ll see what’s really going on in time hardly ever exist anywhere outside fiction.
I’ve experienced it myself, even closest people promptly dismissing my signals for help to my face, and I saw that it was not because they did not care, but because they were too afraid to believe it’s true. Perhaps I acted in a similar way to someone else? We all want to believe the person next to us is okay, especially since then we wouldn’t need to stop something we are doing and invest ourselves in someone else.