I live in spiritual and material poverty. I have just a scrap of a soul, and the money my parents make simply goes right back out. I only really get one new “amenity” every month. Maybe I’m spoiled, or maybe I ask too little.
One thing my parents never taught me is not what is too much, but rather what is too little. How much rice should I put on my plate? How many games should I buy? Is it all right to have a relationship now? What are the rules of engagement?
And so because my father expects me to be very frugal with my money, he seldom factors in any expenditures I might make. But I am not here to beg for money. I am here to beg for mercy.
I have put myself in a situation where I live for numbers. Grades here, grades there. 3 out of 22 friends online, that’s 13.6363636364%. Maybe I can complete 1.5 sections a day in the textbook. 7, 14, 21, 28, that’s just four weeks in July. Four weeks to do something before August.
I don’t feel encouraged anymore, because I live for numbers instead of for people. I can’t find the people I want or need. The only place I can find them is in the Internet, and you know I have a love-hate relationship with the Internet. One day I find great people hanging about in some obscure community; the other, I’m surrounded by adults on the verge of to kicking me because I can’t seem to follow the conversation.
Why can’t I follow the conversation? Because my interests differ by an immense margin. The folks at Internet-land talk about the latest and the greatest, the GTX 10 series. My “acquaintances” at my summer program talk about TV shows and plot holes and weird references, and the “acquaintances” at school talk about Hearthstone or about work, or they’re just busy copying answers from one another. On the other hand, I talk about how crazy it would be making a tape drive out of a VCR.
I give up. I don’t know where to find people like me. I was supposed to find them a long long time ago, but I missed some bridge between them and me, and I will never find them again.
I feel lonely. Every time I think I find somebody as competent as me, I back away from him and never talk to him again because it seems tall white kids with glasses wearing shirts about their high schools’ CS programs intimidate me. Instead of thinking about striking up conversation, I look at the competitive side and think about how he’s better than me and how I’m not even worth his time.
I have lost so many opportunities simply because of my erratic personality; my thought process is so sporadic that most people cannot follow it. In fact, I often seem to overpower them, as I consider a rebuttal far ahead of the other person’s train of thought, and then the other person sometimes seems surprised as to how I was able to precisely address a rebuttal before it even crossed his mind.
My mood swings too severely at times. The day can begin horrible getting off the bed, plateauing to a tentative hopefulness, and then upon looking at the clock in the afternoon, swinging back to helpless regret following yet another unproductive day.
Video games don’t really work anymore for me. My brain recognizes video games to simply further the cause of time-wasting, and so it prevents me from playing games in order to try to coax me to do more productive things. And when I do play video games, I eventually quit the game and the joy of playing suddenly subsides. I’m back to where I was before I played the game.
Case in point, Altitude. I played that game because first, it’s a good way to kill time, and second, it’s a tiny download. But I gain nothing from it once I come back to real life.
Another case in point, GMod. I played that game last week because I thought I could find the “old timers” again, the people who could teach me ZCPU, see what they made with E2, and so on. But instead, I do the same thing over again: try to make a little car, show people the old advanced dupes (including the pod racer, and the vast majority that weren’t even made by me), anything except making something cool and something new. And the little minges come in and ram down their giant cubes against our contraptions. It’s why I quit playing GMod such a long time ago.
And now for the five million time, I scare my father just by opening my mouth to say something because he’s too deaf to hear my footsteps. I am just a ghost in this house. I might as well be a ghost in this world.
I don’t know how to seek help. Nobody will do it for me. My parents are horrible sources of counsel, because they are biased and do not offer fresh perspectives. My teachers and “trusted adults” do not really care, because it is not their business to hear about my problems or do anything about them unless they are legally or morally obligated to do so.
In my mind I picture misery. I don’t picture it as me burning in hell, I picture it as the absolute worst of anything happening to me; my worst dream, as influenced by any surrounding events. Somebody breaking a window in the house, the alarm tripping on an “open” window again, the hard drive failing suddenly one day… anything at all. I don’t want any of that to happen. Ever.