Malaise

Posted by Crazy Star on Oct. 18, 2020, 1:28 p.m.

I used to work myself maximally ; down to the last damn drop of oxygen before I passed out only to proceed on the next day. I didn't care if it was night or day. Bathroom breaks or meals were a burdening pestilence.

When others were out being alive or home playing games or whatever I coded. Websites at first, but then Blitz Basic, Java, Gamemaker, whatever. I never finished anything. I just worked and worked and worked and WORKED. I was obsessed trying to escape from reality and hid away inside the computer rectangle whenever I could.

Education was only an excuse to drop out because I didn't want to work. I'd rather die or join the military and kill everyone else in the platoon. Friends weren't easy and the girls ran away scared.

Then I worked some more without working. Coding my impossible projects. Massive. As hard and taxing and unrewarding as possible. Infinite workload. And for what? Nothing.

And now I can't work anymore. The mere thought gives me PTSD like flashbacks of sitting isolated alone incapable of anything else. Gloomy and foreboding. Cold bleak and blue.

I can't do any of it. I want to. I think about it everyday. Always ashamed. Always stressed and unhappy. Frustrated irritable angry and unpleasant. I'm a piece of shit person and everything in my life is broken. I'm 34 and I got fucking laundry lying piled up on the floor and the dishes I'm even sure how to get rid of.

My life is centered around leaving my apartment so I don't go too crazily depressed but crazily overstimulated confused and random instead. It's been like this for ages and there's just no end to it. I'm incapable of being a person. I'm weird and cannot relate and I have no one and other people are all normal and have no idea how to react on me. Not that I give them the chance.

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Comments

Crazy Star 2 days, 18 hours ago