A collection of negativity that I need to get out and probably shouldn't post but maybe like 1 person is reading this maybe hi N.

I could just write this and delete this, maybe I will! You'll only know if you see this or not! But maybe it's because I've been on the internet so long that I feel if it doesn't get thrown out into the digital ocean in a proverbial bottle then it never existed. I never existed. My thoughts never existed. That's part of what I'm probably suffering from, is I've never had an outlet for negative thought. Any main account I post it on will have people reading it, seeing it, learning something about me that they shouldn't know, there's no benefit to knowing, that I might decide isn't me anymore tomorrow. They might give me empty platitudes, hey reach out if you need me champ, talk to me if you need to.

Talk to you about what?

The dread? The crushing? I don't even know what is crushing me so it's just The Crushing. The existential crisis I go through when I remember I'm never going to accomplish anything, make no mark on the world? That my days are me existing in a state of apathy or alternatively existing to fund my right to have a home to exist in a little longer? It's a shit routine.

I'm sorry to everyone I tricked into being my friend the last couple of years. I've run out. The well has gone dry. I have nothing for you. I can't small talk, I lost the ability to have meaningful talks a long time ago. But at least small talk existed, until it didn't anymore. How do I respond? How do I pass as human well enough to make you feel cared and treasured anymore? I can feel the harm and friction as I worsen and worsen and worsen and worsen and I'm sorry.

I've wanted to pull back from online since late last year, be less immediately available if someone sends me a message, for my own sake. But it's only made me pull farther away from people, I forget to respond, or worse which is the common thing, is I take in what they've sent me and think and think and think and I just. can't. figure out. how. to. respond.

Of course I'm lonely. Of course I want to make friends, find a creative connection somewhere, but, how? how? I just don't have the social skills anymore to connect. I live alone, I spend my day working or playing meaningless games, and once in a while I go to the grocery store or post office. In the summer I get to look at the harbour and see pigeons. I never learned how to talk about games, and when I'm doing the worst I just play super mindless stuff like survivors or farming games, there's nothing to discuss there's nothing to tell there's nothing to share my life is just existing I do nothing but exist.

And there's no change I can make. I can't move, I couldn't even afford to move across the street! Before the big C I could of potentially eventually picked up and gone somewhere else, even if it was to the other side of the city, but that's impossible now. This is the only place I can ever afford to live and if I lose it I will merely fucking die.

I've gone past teary and snotty to just really snotty now and I've moved to crushed to really annoyed that I can't find any paper towel, it's an improvement in mood ok.

I feel like. Creating. Games. Comics. Crafting stories. That's the main one, games and comics and writing all tie into crafting stories. Yeah you can make stuff without stories and I'd like to but stories are important I love stories uwaaaaaa. Whenever I read something good it makes me want to fucking die because I can't get over not being able to create thing. I just don't know how! I don't know how! And at this point I'm old and wretched and the idea of writing anything with the skill of a 14 year old with no experience is less preferrable than just biting off my fucking tongue!

I can't come up with anything. I have "stories". I have "Characters". But what are they without ends? without goals? dreams? driving forces? they're just things to rotate in my brain so I have things to think about that aren't everything else in the world. They're an escape from reality that I can carry with me. Even if they had plots, designs, dreams, it's too personal to share. It's too painful to share anything within myself.

Why am I like this right now? I've been in a bit of a funk lately as you probably could tell from the negative leaning my blog posts take, but yesterday I finally started playing In Stars and Time and the art is great and the writing is great and the entire visual presentation is gorgeous and I can't I can't I can't I can never ever ever do something like this. I played for 10 minutes and that was enough to know. It usually takes much longer, I can get immersed before reality hits, but this time it was instant. I avoided it this long because I knew.

I've almost beaten it at this point. So it's like, it didn't make me quit. Why would I quit something amazing and perfect? It just shifted my neurons whenever I'm not playing into the hell place.

Creative people don't usually exist in bubbles, right? They have friends, partners, creative buddies, they can talk to about their ideas and stuff, right? Toby fox didn't hide in andrew hussie's basement for like 5 years not talking to a single soul about what they were creating the entire time. They talk, they bounce ideas, they give and take and they're better for it, right? I don't have that. I had, a tiny bit of that, on tumblr like, 12 years ago. Those friends are gone. That internet is gone. I wasn't great at sharing then either but I still felt like, I kinda was. And they were with me. And everything in that part of things was good.

Everything is so hostile now, I've watched so many people's lives get ruined. I make a living on the internet. I can't afford to be genuine, be myself, be more than the mask I put on for the public, because even if you do nothing wrong, someone will hate you. And that can fester, and rot, and I couldn't survive that. I'm too fragile. I don't even think I've ever done something too wrong, I ghosted some commissions once due to burnout and when I wasn't fighting to not go homeless anymore I paid those all back! It's just, primal fear.

I can't be a person because people can be killed.

I've worn this mask so long I forget what the genuine me is like. They're gone. And this barely functional empty shell is all that's left of them.

Also I've dwelled on autism and I hate to self diagnose myself with even more bullshit which is why I keep it to myself but lately I've really been feeling "fuck am I avoidant?" So I literally just looked up avoidant personality on google and got slapped with this infographic and I'm feeling incredibly attacked right now.

This is just a circle for me there ain't no venn diagram I'm gonna go die thank u for ever /jk

I'll probably delete this later. It's just. A lot of negativity that I really needed to throw into the ocean. It'll eventually get eaten by a whale and it'll be gone forever.