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whase, on 24 October 2010 - 08:20 PM, said:

I see most people here have had a lot of things to endure in their pasts, and it seems like they have plenty reasons to be unhappy about their lives.
I'm 18, I've only had 2 loved ones die and that was of old age. We have plenty money, we're not rich, but we never have any debts. I have nice parents and my father never hit me. I'm with the 21% smartest people of Holland and I have my own tv, dvd recorder and laptop. you wouldn't think I'd have any reason to be unhappy, would you?

but I'm not unhappy about my past, I'm unhappy about my future.
the road my life is going is leading me to become a forever single guy who will be busy working in the IT until I'm 67 and then die when I'm 68 (around the age both my grandfathers died). every few months now I've got to think of a new reason not to kill myself. My current reason: My sisters both want children later, how can they ever explain them what happened to their uncle? I hope this excuse lasts longer than a few months...

This post is interesting because it reminds me of myself and my thinking to an extent. When I compare the most extreme situations in my life to some of the ones listed here, I can't come to any other conclusion that my life has been devoid of any real powerful unhappy experiences. It offers perspective. A friend of mine suddenly lost her mother due to cancer some way mid-december a couple of years back. Right between her birthday and christmas. Another friend of mine was physically abused by her mother and brother, her father didn't care and child protection services failed her immensely. At some point she moved out, started working fulltime to support herself and at the same time finished high school. It is a feat I am astonished of and I wouldn't have been able to do it. The father of a guy I used to be friends with committed suicide when he was 14 or so and after that his mom tried to abuse him out of the house. The father of another girl I know is an alcoholic. The guy who is currently my partner in a research project has such a bad relationship with his stepfather they often use physical violence and try to humiliate eachother in social situations. And finally the mother of this other girl I know is suicidal.

And then there I come with me not knowing happiness for as far back as I can remember. With my parents having been failures at parenting. My father who has from day one closed himself off to perhaps everyone around him and will consistently tell lies as long as he doesn't have to tell the embarrassing truth about him likely being picked on during his school days, ignored by most in university and then again at his work place. About his autism. About admitting that the way his parents raised him and their other children was cold, closed and bad. I don't have a good relationship with my father. For several years during my teens I hated him with a passion. At some point during this year, I just let that hatred go. And half heartedly tried to fix our relationship. Due to something I'm not going to explain, everything went to hell pretty soon after that. And currently my mother doesn't really want anything to do with him anymore, and my little brother doesn't talk to him anymore. I have now reached the point of not truly caring about him anymore. No matter what he does I can't bring myself to be happy for him or annoyed or angry at him. Enough was enough, I guess. And it seems that applied to everyone.

The story about my mother is considerably shorter. Mainly that's because for a good 6 or so years now I haven't seen her all that often(my parents are divorced, my mother moved to Belgium officially but lived about 1/3 of the week with us) and because she has shown betterment. My mother was pretty obsessive about me and my siblings not getting picked on, and went to great lengths. The only real effect of that was that she made it worse. And she would often get angry and change rules on the fly. This past year I've been getting along better with her. And she has now finally realized some things about herself and her parenting and has apologized for what she has done and is changing herself.



... You may find it awkward that I talk about my parents. And I guess it is. My problems are for a sizeable part due to my family. And I at some point those problems dictated my life. The far larger and more painful part of my problems lies with myself. I have a lot of autistic symptoms. I'm rubbish in social situations that are not via telephone, email, text messaging or instant web messengers like AIM. I have virtually no social life and I think the chance of me getting a girl to fall in love with me, due to my social awkwardness, is very slim. I was picked on in primary school, and socially isolated through most of my middle school and high school days. I think the most direct cause of this was my social weakness. Untill very recently I hadn't made friends. I don't go out much and can't stand crowds. I lived under the idea that extremist philosophers like Machiavelli are right in how people will always choose what is best for them, even if that was bad for you and try to force those beliefs on people. For a long time I thought I could use badass movie quotes in real life and have them work.

I guess most importantly I'm still alone. Over the last year I've improved much. But push comes to shove, I'm still lonely during christmas and new years eve. Last year I planned to commit suicide by overdose if I had to spend new years eve on my own. If not at the last moment my mother didn't decide to stay with me, I don't know what I would've done. And I face the same situation again this year. funny thing, though. Around this time last year I was seriously depressed. And now not any more.

Happiness, or unhappiness, has always been something I think about a lot. I figure that no matter how shit you feel, you gotta soldier on, just because nobody is going to do it for you and if you don't you're better off dying. I figured out that your goal in life cannot be dictated by your church or your state. Maybe you won't ever know what it was untill you're dying. Who is to say? I figured out that our unhappiness, more than anything, shapes us as a person. Or maybe I'm just holding an off topic rant.

no name fitting

What have I been thinking. Getting all riled up to write and then when I begin, it all flowing away. Clearly a lack of inspiration. Lots and lots has and will have changed.

I figure my father is a major character in the play that is my life. I also figure that he has been the one who defines my life. If he does something, I try to do it the other way. My father has been living my life for me. That might just sound right. I don’t like my father. After a period of hope for him, I kinda just left that one time when he got angry at my mother while being angry at me, saying all kinds of stuff my mother thinks should not be repeated. I figure it was about him being very very lonely.

I am someone… who knows what being lonely in a crowd of people is and how it affects you. I’ve lived most of my life that way. And I think I’d prefer death over going through that again. Hat period, in hindsight, was the most unhappy period. Which led up to December 2009. Where I was at the point of killing myself. Afraid of being alone at new years eve. Go sit in the basement cry drink a bottle of whiskey or some other drink containing lots of alcohol smoke and take a load of painkillers. I don’t have the guts to hang or cut myself, so I’ll just take the horribleness of choking to death in your own puke for granted.

I have no sympathy for my father. When I stood on the edge of suicide because of loneliness. I have a feeling I know what he is going through but I don’t feel sympathy. And the following pathetic reason may explain why. It has come to the point where I just want distance from him. No love and no hate to give just get away and let me have the time to figure out how I really feel about you.

The moment you’re truly mature is the moment you start living on your own. Which is a thought an idea a notion I wholly disagree with. Because what do you –learn- when you go live on your own. Responsibility. You’re going to die of hunger and thirst if you don’t feed yourself and if you don’t pay your water bills. You’re gonna smell if you don’t do laundry and clean your house. And get diseases. But something I have learned from other people is that they – change – when they start living on their own.

Good and wrong exist and what I’m doing is clearly right. Good and wrong is a concept I’ve touched before in vain attempt of maybe convincing they don’t exist. Only to now realize they do. Because they’re an idea. A concept. Just like fairness, beauty and equality are concepts that “exist”. Not as something you can measure or see. But something you feel. You cannot see them, yet they are there, being.

For the longest time, I guess, you were far ahead of me. And at some point you must’ve stopped, paused, to let others catch up to you or to take a breather. And then you never left that even when other long passed you and were yelling and telling you to come join them.

When I look at my father’s family, I see people who are not really disconnected. They all have the idea family should be close to each other. Though his siblings and parents don’t seem to be that at all. They all treat each other pretty harshly, I guess. I think his parents, my grandparents, might have been nazi collaborators in WW2 or something, because one thing which really stands out is how they never told anything about their life. Though I never really asked. And I guess nobody ever did. His family is full of silence. My father has about 5 or so stories about maybe the first 18 years of his life until he went to college and he stars in none of him. He isn’t even a side character in any of them. I think he used to be the black sheep at home and picked on and isolated throughout his school career. And then about his time in university he has only boasting and flaunting of his physical strength as he was a rower.

My father has effectively never told me anything about himself. About how he feels and how he thinks. The “discussions” I’ve had with you, the latest one I can recall is a very very short one about democracy of autocracy or anything and how I thought that people can live their lives regardless, all you had to say “if we don’t live in a democracy a lot of people will be unhappy” and you said it repeatedly. I was 19 at the time. And my point wasn’t stupid. Or unelaborated. You have your beliefs and your beliefs are “right” you will force your righteousness upon others because you have the power of those who are right.

I figure you want to be a good citizen. You want to obey the law, go vote every election, follow the unwritten rules of our society. That everybody should work for the benefit of our society. And that in and of itself is not a bad aspiration. I believe it was Socrates who first wrote that a good citizen and a good person are two things completely independent of each other.

A good person in my opinion, a mature person. Has the courage to open himself to others and the power to understand.

And those are exactly the things you’ve never learned. Never done. And the things I am only now beginning to learn. Most of my life has been a waste. I was picked on in primary school, I was picked on and isolated in middle school and just isolated in high school. And in university the same isolation continued. In hindsight… I’ve been wondering for a while now if it wasn’t my own social incapability. If it wasn’t – me – who isolated himself. And the older I grow, the more I think that that is the case. I think I can now say that because I’ve come to be at peace with what happened during those years. How I called a boy’s mom a bitch just to sound cool and getting it blown into a scandal. God that was embarrassing. Reminds me how teachers will try to drill you into the ground “to make you learn from your mistakes” instead of understanding and truly learning from your mistakes. One other time, I threw a piece of wood high upwards into the air, randomly. And it hit a kid who was like 20 metres away in the head. And everyone ganged up on me. I can’t remember how I got out of that situation.

Last time he got angry. I had a talk with him. He kept going on and on about how he thought I knew him and that he would have done that immediately and not put it into the basement, that he meant something with that. And how I could have been so stupid and how it cost him a lot of money. And he repeated that for like half an hour. And the I said I know that it’s not about that because you’re lonely. To which he replied yes! I am lonely. Nobody ever talks to me.

One thing I’ve noticed in my father is how he can’t have a real conversation with anyone. He rather holds a monologue. Or is listening to one. Nobody ever talks to me. Instead of talks with me. Peculiar peculiar. I myself have noticed that I can’t converse well, either. Only through stuff like MSN. My voice sounds unnatural. My mind goes blank and I can’t think properly.

Looking back on my life, 20 years long now. I have the feeling I’ve wasted most of it. The earliest memory I have is of when I was 3 or so, when my mother put me on my stool on the bicycle to bring me to the daycare centre. An image. The one after that is me sitting on some big sewage tubing on my school playground after school, as an upper class boy takes my bag and starts throwing it between him and his much older sister.

One thing I have realized is that what I am most frightened of is being alone on new year’s eve. Even now, that thought terrifies me. I can’t stand going out, very crowded places. Can’t talk to people. And completely understand everyone who isn’t going out likely is celebrating it with their parents. While my family is dead. For the past three or so years my father has opted to go to some old “friends” of his alone, my mother has a man she wants to celebrate it with, my brother always tags along with some other people and my sister goes out. No student association to celebrate it with. So who am I to turn to?

The last year has been a major change for me. Still, I am not really any less alone than before. You could say I’ve learned to be somewhat happy with it. But the end year holidays are a harsh time for people don’t belong.

I have only one or two good memories. One is a picture. In my memory. I’m sitting at the McDonalds in Eindhoven, on the second floor all the way in the corner at the back. I’m, 15 or so. The girl who went there with me and who sits across the table stretches out and views the street from the window. I see the side of her face in the most beautiful lighting and it just looks that much more beautiful. I should’ve kissed her back then.

Regarding her, I can say she was truly the first one I really loved. I fell in love with her when I was 14 I guess. She sat behind me in class for a good part of a year. And I guess in some ways she was like a mother figure to me. (because my mother has not really been a mother figure for most of my life) I’ve loved her until then. Met her for the last time I some months ago and immediately fell in love with her again. Unfortunately I’m a social retard and destroyed almost every opportunity to really talk with her. Instead of against her or she against me.

I once told a guy to hang himself when his father had committed suicide out of the blue. Retard me even took a moment to think if that was so smart, but then for some reason decided to say it. I deserve to die for that. And due to that I have for a long time thought I’m completely fatalistic. As soon as I get something good going, something in me causes me to completely destroy it again.

Some day you will find a better place to stay. You’ll never need to feel this way again.

AM/FM

After my latest blog, I found myself with a very big problem. How the hell do I top something that’s either perfection or near perfection? Don’t get me wrong, if I read it now, I’d think to myself I would’ve changed some stuff. But then again, it is known to me that a perfectly symmetrical face is found to be ugly. Which is odd, because a high degree of symmetry in the face is known to be attractive. So maybe writing it perfectly would have made it less perfect and humane in the process.

The biggest problem I found myself facing is that the openness and sadness I displayed in my previous blog I consider to be about as deep as you can go. But I’ve changed. The openness remains, but the sadness is gone. In other words, I now lack the potential to be as deep as I could have gone. Partially that bothers me, because I find myself constrained as a writer and partially I’m happy about it, since it means my wounds are finally healing.

I first intended this to be a piece that’s very critical about the world and to present a different view of what is wrong. Then again, who am I to say such things? Saying I know better is pure arrogance, I guess. Doesn’t matter if I’m right or wrong. I wanted to make it very critical of how people interpret statistics, but who is going to read that, then understand it and lastly adapt his thinking to it? Let’s be honest here, that would be nobody. And again, I’d be writing it more out of arrogance than deep interest.

I’ve changed, but was that in the good way? I notice my arrogance hasn’t become less, I know I’ve found another reason to think almost everyone is less than me and I am honestly surprised when I find someone who thinks like me. I still don’t act like I really care about what some people I have to deal with, feel about my actions. Have I not only changed my ways, but remained factually the same person? The idea bothers me. Am I not only a more socially acceptable form of myself? I want to change myself. I see little value in becoming socially acceptable first to then change myself. I think it has to be the other way around. To first change oneself, and then change the outside.

The only significant change I’ve brought to myself is that I am less annoyed by what other people do. My opinion that most of us are gross scumbags with no tablemanners still stands though. And I like to judge people by it. There’s some people I systematically ignore because they do what I think is highly gross. In my head, I invent ways of killing them and visualize me doing it. Does that make me a bad person? I wonder.

I’ve seen people go down over the years. In that regard, my track record is probably a few times bigger than most. I’ve seen people forfeit their dreams because of the emotional pressure they were under, I’ve seen people discard all hope. I know one girl who killed herself over it. And even now, I see people struggling with themselves, what is going to happen to them, how to cope with what has happened to them and what has been happening to them all their lives. I want to be there for them, but I don’t know how. I doubt they’re even willing to give me a role that lets me help them. I don’t even know if interfering like that will only make matters worse. It might just be arrogance, claiming that I’ve changed and so can they, if they want to.

I wonder when I started to change. I think it was during the holidays, when I had sex for the first time but I had already started on the book(more on that later). The circumstances I find quite embarrassing, and I won’t talk about them any further. But I guess the most important thing about it was that I didn’t like it. I didn’t care for it. Up until that point, I believed that having a girlfriend(a sexual relationship), an active social life and lots of friends would make me happy. And in a way, I still believe that way of life would have made me happy. But having sex, the epitome of that kinda lifestyle for the first time made me realize that none of all of that would really have mattered to me. I didn’t do it out of love, but out of lust. Because we both wanted to do it and that’s it. And I didn’t care shit for it.

This experience confirmed something for me. I won’t find happiness in other people. So I had two options left. Find happiness in religion or find it within myself. I know of myself I can’t bring myself to believe in something supernatural so I had to find it within myself. Following this were some conversations with the man I now view as my mentor. He was the first person ever to ask me not if something was the matter, but if I was happy. He was the person, the role I had been looking for. Someone who asked me to tell my tale and didn’t judge me because of it. He recommended me a book. The book was a pivotal point. It gave me the general idea behind finding happiness and it confirmed to me that I won’t find happiness anywhere but within myself. I read the first seventy or so pages and had to think about the content for over three weeks before I understood it. Reading the rest of the book took almost two months. It bothers me a bit. I’ve always been viewed as someone who can find out almost anything by himself, when given time. But reality has shown me over and over that I need a book or person to provide me a basis in order to fully understand it.

In that regard, you could say that human society has always depended on the genius of few. Without the geniuses who went before me, I wouldn’t be able to understand chemistry, physics and myself as I do now. It makes me wonder then, why are we apparently starting to look down on genius? I know some myself and I observe them. Yes, they miss some social skills, but I also noticed another trend with the help of the book. Most people depend entirely on a set of social skills to get happy. What I also noticed is that these people seem to breed mistrust. Social techniques are an outside and I’ve noticed that while social techniques may be used to get temporary gains, in the end they always backfire. I guess that is because we miss a defined inside.

With inside I mean principles and goals. When I talk to people I know about principles, I see how most of them either don’t know them, can’t define them or let them depend on whatever has happened to them recently. When I compare that to a couple of people I’d call genius, I notice that while they don’t have a very robust outside, they know their principles. When it comes to goals, it depends on how you define them. Some would make a dream equal to a goal. And while I can’t find an argumentation against that idea that can’t be whipped off the table in an instant, I do believe they aren’t the same. Your goal is being happy, fulfilling your dream is a means to that goal.

Seemingly, we don’t really know what we want to do. I mean long term. I often heard the question, why would I bother if I don’t even know what it’s for? To what purpose, am I alive?

I think I’ve found an answer to that question. It is not I, who asks my life this question; it is life itself which asks me. We are free to do the things we want with our life. There will at this point be some people who yell “But I can’t achieve anything! I Won’t be president or anything! I can’t achieve nothing!” It’s a path of thinking I can understand. When we think of achieving something, we automatically think about a
“special” job. Like being the president, or a fire fighter, or a detective or a doctor. And yes, to most of us these goals are completely unachievable. But then again, why don’t you look the other way around? Why don’t you ask yourself “If I were to die, what would I want those dear to me to remember me for? What would I have want to have meant for them in their lives?”

I myself believe that, while making a career and rising the social ladder certainly are important thing, they are not essential to happiness. They are only of secondary value, when you yourself, your principles and true goals are of primary value, they are invaluable.

Finally, to explain the title. AM represents old, FM represents new. I am mainly FM now, but AM still remains. I won’t say that FM is my final goal, it’s still far from the quality of digital. I still have a long road to go.

Questions and hope – revelations

Questions and hope – revelations

I wrote this to say the things I cannot bring myself to say. In this writing, I have tried to capture who I am on paper. I know it’s a long block of text, but please take the time to read and think about it.

Do you know what happiness is? If you do, you know at least one thing I don’t. Happiness. I have experienced every emotion but happiness.

The most important one of them all.

I have never, in my 19 years of life, known happiness.

Of course, this leads to the question “why have you never known happiness?” and I find this the one most difficult and complex answer to give. A lot of factors contribute to it. I’m going to tell you my life’s story, with all the parts I cannot bring myself to tell the people I know and love.

Note: my mother has a degree in psychology

My parents had what most of us call a political marriage. They married because of the mutual benefits, not out of love. Before you go hating on them, let me tell you that nothing is wrong with that and you shouldn’t hate them for that in and of itself. The real issue was that they were totally incompatible persona’s and because love was not their binding factor, they never seemed to care to adjust to each other.

Since early childhood, I have often been told by my mother that I was a burden to her, because I always got my clothes dirty and never cleaned up my mess, along with my brother and sister. My father wasn’t at home till late at night, and I didn’t see him in the morning. He was by all means a workaholic. Though when he got home, and especially late at night when I was in bed, I heard my parents arguing and fighting.

At school I was picked on. I was an easy target, emotional, didn’t want to draw attention to myself. That’s what they look for, not being fat or ugly by themselves. Calling someone fatty or ugly is only an extra means of the act of picking on somebody, the victim itself is chosen on how you react, if you REALLY fight back or not.

The funny thing is that, if you don’t fight back, your individuality will not be ensured. Not in human society. If you can’t hurt people without caring for what happens to you or them, your place in society – real society – becomes void.

But back to my story.

Instead of being caring, understanding and intelligent parents, mine – especially my mother – pursued the people who picked on me. And because of that, she forced me to tell exactly what happened. An emotionally scarred child has to tell what has caused the scar in the first place. And after that, she usually dragged me along to someone’s house to tell the people who live there that their child picked on someone else’s. Adding insult to injury and making my situation at school even worse.

My mother was picked on during her school years, so I understand that she wanted to make sure no matter what I wasn’t getting picked on. But her cause definitely blinded her and she caused far more damage to me doing it, than she could ever have solved.

At home I was an actor, faking happiness to keep my parents happy. I knew my parents couldn’t help me, even if they wanted to. They’d make things worse.

This environment eventually led to me developing suicidal tendencies. During most school trips, the thing I had on my mind was sticking my head out of that air vent/escape hole on top of the bus so my head would be ripped off by a bridge or something. Or I would jump off the bus. I would think about jumping in front of a bus when I saw one and think about hanging myself at home.

At the age of 10, we moved to a new house. It felt like a new start. But the first day we lived there, my parents got into a major fight and my sister pulled my brother and me to our new attic to hide from them and cry. If I were to choose the worst day of my life, I’ll pick that one. The hopes of starting anew were instantly crushed that day.

After that, things went pretty well. At my new school I wasn’t getting picked on, I even made some sort of friends. But then came along high school. My first year went kind of okay, but things went downhill very fast after that. I entered depression and social isolation, and got even unhappier than I was before, became more and more aggressive to myself, my parents and my environment and eventually became near homicidal. Because of the aggression and the life my parents had given me up till then, I started getting real issues with my parents. This was probably set off with me having to sign their divorce papers. I objected to it, because I KNEW they had never bothered to try to adjust to each other, they never bothered to really reconcile and I felt that I, my sister and brother were going to become the victims of their own incompetence, their own unwillingness to work things out. I learned a couple of years later that my mother was having an affair with some immigrant, who basically married her to get a passport, while she loved him.

Note: even though they got divorced, we all still lived in the same house. My mother went to Belgium every weekend, though.

I am a nice and emotional person at the core, and I really felt sorry for her. She eventually broke down, and with me being the only one strong enough, I was the one who had to comfort her. I heard her say she didn’t want to live anymore, she didn’t want to go through all the suffering any more. I understand why my siblings couldn’t handle being with her at that moment. She had suffered all her life, some by the choice of others, some by her own choice and at that point it all came out. I was relatively sure that my brother and sister were living a relatively life then, and such sadness, most happy people cannot bear to hear or feel. They run away from it, don’t want to see it. It is the thing they fear most, losing their own happiness.

Things stayed the same after that. As a family we started to fall apart more and more. I think I was the major contributor or at least the catalyst of this due to my aggressive behavior. I hated my parents for real. I hated my siblings for real. And looking back, I don’t fully understand why I made them the targets of my hate. Maybe because they were easy targets. Maybe because I didn’t dare to hate my class mates or use violence against them. The disgusting irony.

After high school, I entered university. Once again a fresh start. By then, my parents had basically stopped correcting me. The fruits of my labour. At first I mistakenly thought it was because they thought I was mature now. Now I know they simply didn’t know me anymore. I know they still care, but I wonder how long that will last. When people stop correcting you, they have given up hope.

It hurts. Knowing full well I am what caused my current situation with my parents, I wish I could take it all back. I know I can’t. After all the misery and powerlessness they’ve caused me, I still love them in a small fraction of my heart. After all, they are my parents and they are the only parents I will ever have.

Even now, I don’t have a social life. People probably think I’m arrogant, a know-it-all, angry, sad and most probably a fuck up of society. I don’t know.

… I have a condition called Asperger’s syndrome. I lack any sort of nonverbal communication skills, have significant difficulties in social interaction, don’t understand the clue of most jokes. It is not a disease or disability that can be cured with medication or therapy. It is a condition I have to live with. I am different in my way of thinking and acting, I see other things than you do. It’s like my world is lit by fluorescent lamps (TL-tubes) while everyone else’s light is lit by the sun.

Negative things, especially ugliness, become far more apparent in the light of a fluorescent lamp. You could say that I see a completely different reality than other people.

Because of all these things, I started asking myself questions. I shall answer them for myself now.

Do I still want to continue living like this? I don’t know. The heart, when it is not filled with happiness, it becomes empty. And when that happens, anger, sadness, pain take its place. It is the most painful thing I know, and I will eventually break down if I continue like this. Maybe that would be a fitting end to this life.

Have I lost hope? No. But the hope remaining is very small. It has been very small for very long now, and maybe it is shrinking. I notice I laugh less than I used to, even when I hated everything. I wonder how long I can keep hope, not consider myself a lost cause.

Have I lost hope for humanity? No, not yet. But I know that chances of humanity ever learning and ever maturing are very very slim. Because we all look up, to things that could potentially make us happy – mobile phones, friendships, love, facebook, hyves, internet, education, work – we don’t see what is in front of us or below us. If we all looked at least in front of us, we already would have seen that as things are now, Armageddon is our destiny. If we continue becoming more and individualistic, not caring about someone else’s opinion, not standing up for an old lady/man in the bus, if we continue picking on those who are weak while the majority just stands around, watches and does nothing, we will be the end of ourselves. It would be a brutal and fitting end to the crimes we have committed against each other.

One of the most disturbing things I have come to learn this past year is that most of us will not even remember the atrocities we committed during high school and in our social life a few years after. We don’t remember how we forced that girl to give us a blow job in the garage at school, we won’t remember how we beat that guy to a bloody pulp, nearly killing him. We won’t remember putting out cigarettes on someone’s head, we won’t remember talking that one fat girl into anorexia nervosa with our constant singling her out.

We simply won’t remember. And this is the largest crime you can commit to your victims. Forgetting the atrocities you have committed, forgetting about the damage you have caused.

We, as humanity need to change. We can talk crap about how bad everything in the world is, and not seeing a way out, simply because it makes passivity legitimate. We can blame media, politicians everybody else, but that is nonsense. By always blaming someone else for our current problems, you ARE the problem, by ignoring the problems you are contributing to them. We cannot change others, and neither do we need fucking cooking workshops or any of that bullshit for ourselves to change. What you need in order to change, is yourself and the will to change. Learning to let go of a little bit of personal happiness in return for an increase of general happiness is going to be – whether we want to face that reality or not – very difficult. But it’s the only way to advance peacefully. Our other options for maturing ourselves would be bombing ourselves back to the stone age or randomly killing about 90% of the world’s population.

At this moment, the latter two are the most likely options.

Face your problems, your issues, your shortcomings. Work around them, beat them. Like I am now. If we do not do this, our future is very grim.

I know I have to change, and I am already changing. I know I have to learn to be social. I know I have to get a taste of happiness. If I am not ever-changing, it means I am standing still. And when I stand still, only unhappiness awaits me. I cannot afford to stand still, and neither can you.

Change.

The holidays in a light you don't want to see them in

I wonder what would happen if every year from now on during the holidays, all the news channels started reporting on how suicide rates DOUBLE during the holidays and how apparently nobody gives enough of a shit about these people to stop them or make sure that they never have such thoughts. There's always these idiots that go respond to that in a way like this: "But as long as your alive, there's a chance of it getting better! Why kill yourself?!" MY crude and logically correct opinion on this, of course, is highly different. You see, the people who say this are also the people who just don't give a shit. Praying for world peace and crap while the boy in school everybody always picks on takes an overdose or hangs himself. Fuck you. You just couldn't give a shit until he died and probably never thought about him about a week after he died. And yes, you'll tell the media how he was always a weirdo but how shocked you were to find out he killed himself blah blah blah. Give me a fucking break here. Are you really that stupid and naive? Is this the kind of bullshit I can expect from people like you, then it's really not a goddamn wonder why so many people kill themselves during the holiday season.

As for me, I am dead frightened of the holidays. Know why? Because it is exactly that time of the year that I am alone and have no real friends becomes brutally obvious. It's not even all that much of my fault either, considering I have a mental underdevelopment which basically comes down to me having no social skills and being unable to read between the lines. It hurts me to write about this. I can't really help it I don't know what to do.

For the last two years I've suffered serious depression around the holidays, bordering on suicidal tendencies. Those same years I eventually found some people to do something with during christmas and new years eve, but I seriously don't know what I would've done if I had been alone. Crying myself to sleep was an option, killing myself with a painkiller overdose was also an option. This year, the same awaits me. Though maybe this time, I might actually find out if I'll cry myself to sleep or kill myself. My relation with my parents, especially my father, is highly strained. Over the last few years it has come to physical violence between us several times. I can't run to my parents for help or comfort, nor do I have the idea I have friends I can turn to. Who do I have to run to? Why don't I have someone or something to run to? Who will comfort me?

I'm now considering if I should write a farewell letter and what I should put in it. I'm wondering where I should kill myself and with what.

I'm crying as I\'m writing this, look down on me if you like. Why do I write this? Because I think it needs to be written.

I know I have to change. I know how to change. I just can't seem to change.

A new beginning

Because the profil3 site was being an asshole and decided it wanted to look like facebook and require you to login to read my actual blogs, I decided to move to another site. Where this sorta stuff doesn't occur. Yay. I hope this site will be as obscure as the last one, because in all honesty I only want a select group of people to read this stuff. And if you're in my msn list you're in luck because that means I'm okay with you reading this.

In a completely different line of thought. I've never really meant this blog as a way to vent anger. Which is also why I don't vent my anger in the first place and why I decided not to transfer some of the material. And maybe I'll ad some subpar stuff I've written over the last year for shits and giggles. Maybe even some conversation transcripts. Who knows? I've never cared too much about the blog and I'm gonna keep it that way in the future.

These stories - maybe - are a way for me to find my way. And maybe they aren't. At the very least they have been instrumental in clearing my mind of some things. And I notice I don't ponder on sexuality very often. For the better. Sex is a topic I'm not comfortable with, more so than suicide, murder, rape, social exclusion and other unpleasant stuff. It don't matter, though. Maybe in due time.

Moving to a new blog also means all comments and responses have been completely erased, and the being a blogspot site I guess that means you can now write up a comment or whatever without having to make an account.

We'll see what the future holds. In the meantime, have at it.