Deleted member 8353
Former Hikikomori, Aimless Pleasure Seeker
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- Joined
- May 29, 2018
- Posts
- 9,341
Since I reached that age, I can count the genuinely happy short periods and moments on two hands.
Basically I got bullied everyday for years, eventually refused to go to school and consequently gave up on progressing in life, became increasingly isolated from the people whom I still talked to irl while desperately trying to make up for so much rejection, lost the last of my irl friends due to them either moving away or no longer being able to relate to me, spent 8 years in self-isolation while coping with escapism to forget that I exist, and then finally rejoined society when I became determined to earn money so I could buy a shotgun to kill myself, only to put it off after realizing I can do some of the things that I want.
My life feels like a fucking joke or some sort of nightmare, nearly everything is either rejection or the mechanical imitation of experience.
Things like a male friend hugging me at age 15, hanging out with friends at a festival two consecutive years in a row as teenagers, an hour with an escort, sitting around on a scenic hilltop with my dad, along with a few other seemingly small events, this stuff mogs the rest of my fucking life. The ridiculous part is I'm probably the only one who thinks about this shit, who derived any value or significance out of these moments. My life is so utterly devoid of value and real positive experience that other people present probably don't even remember my best memories despite experiencing them with me. It's as if this reality is some ill conceived copy of existence which lacks most of the things which make it worthwhile.
Basically I got bullied everyday for years, eventually refused to go to school and consequently gave up on progressing in life, became increasingly isolated from the people whom I still talked to irl while desperately trying to make up for so much rejection, lost the last of my irl friends due to them either moving away or no longer being able to relate to me, spent 8 years in self-isolation while coping with escapism to forget that I exist, and then finally rejoined society when I became determined to earn money so I could buy a shotgun to kill myself, only to put it off after realizing I can do some of the things that I want.
My life feels like a fucking joke or some sort of nightmare, nearly everything is either rejection or the mechanical imitation of experience.
Things like a male friend hugging me at age 15, hanging out with friends at a festival two consecutive years in a row as teenagers, an hour with an escort, sitting around on a scenic hilltop with my dad, along with a few other seemingly small events, this stuff mogs the rest of my fucking life. The ridiculous part is I'm probably the only one who thinks about this shit, who derived any value or significance out of these moments. My life is so utterly devoid of value and real positive experience that other people present probably don't even remember my best memories despite experiencing them with me. It's as if this reality is some ill conceived copy of existence which lacks most of the things which make it worthwhile.
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