MyDeath88
Stairs to the stairs to the stairs to the stairs
- Jun 25, 2024
- 10
Anyone else feel like they came out of the oven wrong? For me, for as long as I can remember, my mind just didn't work right. I don't know if I was born like this, or it got wrecked by the circumstances of my life, but at this point it doesn't really matter. I just can't do it. Mountains of garbage are piling up in my room because I can't bring myself to clean it, I ruined every single relationship I had because I can't bring myself to talk to people, I can't bring myself to eat properly or brush my teeth, I can't hold down a job or proper education, I just can't do it. I don't even have it in me to read anymore.
There's this character in Hanya Yanagihara's 'To paradise' called David (there are a lot of Davids) who is just incapable of doing anything. He has a son, and slowly but surely he mentally shuts down, firstly becoming unable to do complex tasks, then simple ones, then walk, and eventually even move, and he is less and less able to care for him. There's this scene in the book where the son, before leaving the house asks David to put some cartridges of milk back in the fridge (which is right next to him) so it doesn't spoil, and when he returns hours later, lo and behold, David just sits there, not having moved any of them, and all the fucking milk has spoiled. This comedically laughable simple task, and he just couldn't do it. Why? The child starts hitting his father, crying about the fact he can't do anything right and has to do everything by himself, crying about the fact that he doesn't have a father, and David just lets it hapen. He doesn't try to defend himself or try to apologize, because what's the point? He's right. Eventually, David loses the ability to eat or see, and is put in a nursing home where he rots away for thirthy years. I have never related to a character in fiction more.
There was a time in my life where I wanted to start a family and have children of my own, to counteract my broken upbringing and base myself around making them happy, so reading this deeply hurt. Me just collapsing for months on end is an inevitability, and if my hypothetical child ever had to see me in such a state, I don't know if I could ever forgive myself.
But why? The general reaction to his character probably sums up what people think about "people" like me. "Why can't the dad just be a father lol?" Who knows? I wish I knew about my own condition. If I knew how to live normally, like a normal person, I would have done so, but I can't, and it's driving me fucking crazy.
If I had been born in another mind, in another person, would I be able to enjoy being alive, and make use of my body and all the tools that have been so graciously gifted to me by virtue of being born in a Western country? Maybe. But I don't know, and I'll never know. Death is the best that awaits me now.
My life just has been a total embarassment. When I go, I hope I forget forever, and my existence fades away like a bad dream.
There's this character in Hanya Yanagihara's 'To paradise' called David (there are a lot of Davids) who is just incapable of doing anything. He has a son, and slowly but surely he mentally shuts down, firstly becoming unable to do complex tasks, then simple ones, then walk, and eventually even move, and he is less and less able to care for him. There's this scene in the book where the son, before leaving the house asks David to put some cartridges of milk back in the fridge (which is right next to him) so it doesn't spoil, and when he returns hours later, lo and behold, David just sits there, not having moved any of them, and all the fucking milk has spoiled. This comedically laughable simple task, and he just couldn't do it. Why? The child starts hitting his father, crying about the fact he can't do anything right and has to do everything by himself, crying about the fact that he doesn't have a father, and David just lets it hapen. He doesn't try to defend himself or try to apologize, because what's the point? He's right. Eventually, David loses the ability to eat or see, and is put in a nursing home where he rots away for thirthy years. I have never related to a character in fiction more.
There was a time in my life where I wanted to start a family and have children of my own, to counteract my broken upbringing and base myself around making them happy, so reading this deeply hurt. Me just collapsing for months on end is an inevitability, and if my hypothetical child ever had to see me in such a state, I don't know if I could ever forgive myself.
But why? The general reaction to his character probably sums up what people think about "people" like me. "Why can't the dad just be a father lol?" Who knows? I wish I knew about my own condition. If I knew how to live normally, like a normal person, I would have done so, but I can't, and it's driving me fucking crazy.
If I had been born in another mind, in another person, would I be able to enjoy being alive, and make use of my body and all the tools that have been so graciously gifted to me by virtue of being born in a Western country? Maybe. But I don't know, and I'll never know. Death is the best that awaits me now.
My life just has been a total embarassment. When I go, I hope I forget forever, and my existence fades away like a bad dream.
