No, I’m not going to go out of my way to figure out if Shinku has all those female bits. She’s a doll, people. Give it up already! I do feel bad about Shion and Rika, Lizlet and Kuesu, and Yukari and Mizore getting the short end of the pixel.
Now, go listen to Oshichauzo!!〘押しちゃうぞ！！〙, and then, give me crap for not figuring out how to get Arifureta in there.
—— ———— —————— ———————— incoming are more personal updates, etc. —————— ———— ——
Finally, I’d like to take a second to express some meaningful words of another order: I’m very sorry to all those who got roped into my very stressful hospital stay. At least eight people took it poorly, and that’s my fault obviously.
Simply, I was doing everything in my power to not have a mental breakdown, and that meant riding the high of a much more fascinating world than it really is too long. As far as I’m concerned, it was for survival that I went into the deep end more, and I bit the backlash for it, definitely.
I came out with a need for another medication to treat what are known as pseudo-seizures (I forget if I’d already mentioned that on this website). Sorry if I’m repeating myself.
I’ll tell you something: It’s really something else to have something that’s obviously happening to you (pseudo-seizures) and seemingly no one taking you seriously. (I even got security called on me for giving another patient a hug!) Honestly, I have so many shit memories from that stay, and being treated like an asshole the entire time really made me wonder what the fuck I was doing wrong.
I expect normies to not give a fuck what happens to a lolicon, but guess what! Normies aren’t my gang to begin with, so fuck all y’all!
Now that the dust has settled some, I’d like to make it clear: I’m trying my best to stay among the living again—back/neck issues willing—and there’s some light I’d stumbled onto, too: A new exercise I can do with my voice in efforts of getting back my singing voice, though I am a long fucking way off from that, so don’t stick around holding your breath expecting it’ll happen in my lifetime!
There’s probably a saying by someone to the effect of ‘Treasures are found at the ends of a man’s various miseries.’
As far as I’m concerned, the people who were supposed to be supporting me betrayed me. And that has wounded me greatly. (I need to carry around these three dice now because they comfort me.) There, among a select few other choice words (I’d have with them if I had it in me to not avoid conflict), there, I would find the answers to all the shit I’d stirred up.
When I get Jupiter’s moons to line up so perfectly again, you’ll see a new post on my website! Huzzah!
He claimed I was manic, then later, after some explaining (it’s quite the story), he acknowledged I wasn’t.
But get this: I’m still certified, so I guess it’s not so easy to be a grown-up in this grown-up world.
I am a little bitter, though I wonder what the point of anything is with a memory that cannot grasp most any speech that’s too fast. It’s a mighty ugly reality, and certainly tries my hope for recovery-of-the-brain.
Then, the big question is, ‘If I’m not manic, why am I still certified?’!
Oh oh! I know! It’s because his feelings got hurt. (The number of caveats I’m omitting would fit on a Christmas tree, but we’ll just ignore that – because I want to be perfectly in the right, and not just a little right.)
Like the fucking guy was pointing to my empty Listerine bottles in the bathroom as evidence!
I’m sorry, but no… They’re there to remind me of how important my teeth are…
Anyways, I felt the desire to write come hell or high water, so here I am writing this shit.
The real trouble is, I know this won’t be something that can sustain itself.
These meds, dude! They really fuck me up!
I keep gravitating to cigarettes because it’s the only thing that I can see myself buying even if it doesn’t solve anything—there’s a chance a smoke session will make me feel like I can game out. They’re so few and far between though.
Plainly, it’s typically just me abusing bupropion to beat the addiction I always end up in.
I get the feeling treating my brain this way isn’t good, but what choice do I have? (Hands up to those of you who can fathom ‘not being able to do anything.’
Yea, that’s me. Always feeling like I can’t fucking do anything. Psychiatric drugs aren’t good, my dude/dudette.
The obvious way to understand a situation you can’t in your right mind is, evaluate it in like a knee-jerk-off way, and that’s rudimentary,my dear boy!
Long time fans of this channel will remember an article a couple back; it’s hard to believe they found me on meds again, but I really don’t care anymore. (I used up my last bit of good gliding vibes, so that I could be myself a little of a year.) (Thankfully, my speech is back being slow, and thoughts are harder to formulate my usual logics again. /s)
You really have to recognize how much physical agony I’d been in, knowing the feeling of my back falling apart, and be faced with persons so rash, no amount of eloquence could end the suffering—its clockwork: grand and desirable to the homeless, but no! That isn’t for me.
As I sit here waiting for an appointment that’ll (likely) go nowhere. I’m about ready to give up the seeking, and just go eat a rock.
Remember when I said this? ‘… [H]ave to recognize how much physical agony I’d been in’. Yes, unheard w/ video proof. And still, managed to fixate on any thing he could to—what’s that term? ‘<something> bias’?
Oh, don’t be naive! I’d may as well be consumed by fatalism. Would I recognize myself if I just choose to stop being me? Because dying alone is a rice cookie, afterall—BUT I’M SITTING HERE WITH A 20% MENDED VOICE, thinking ‘You don’t even realize who I am!’
I lost my voice, you sons-of-bitches! He lost his voice, you sons-of-bitches.
I lost my voice, you sons-of-bitches! He lost his voice, you sons-of-bitches.
Fucking give me sanity long enough to have contributed something other than this theatrical fantasy where no one plays the lead.
I expect greatness from those ‘treating’ me now. And they’ll never come any closer to understanding how the voice works, either. Now, isn’t that special?!
Let’s leave it up to future-me to partake in the looting in the far away and after! ————————
Music got me hearing; lost silk after the hike, too.
Now that I’m sleeping so much again, I can theorize new ways to modify sleep into what it needs to be: congratulations!
Congratulations!
Also, as a side-note, my neck hurts soooooooo much if I turn it just ever so slightly in either direction: left and right; forward and back are someway less predictable.
Music got me here! But boy, it takes a tall order of pain to touch certain phrases.
… is being made to communicate the state of my consciousness (the others were abandoned). Plainly, it appears I have DID (Disassociative Identity Disorder). (Expect this article to meander a bit.)
I’ve arrived at a point where I have realized it doesn’t really matter to me whether my life’s work is adopted en masse. I recently heard about how Carl Jung ordered that his one book, there, be published 50 years (or something) after his passing, so that people took his work seriously.
Don’t get me wrong: I absolutely and totally understand why he asked for that.
Simply, it occurred to me yesterday that the learned I am trying to influence may, in fact, be so glued to their wishy-washy understandings and, thus, ‘We are above reproach!’ that no amount of evidence will convince them of anything. It’s the nature of the beast. Really, it’s the nature of the beast.
Do be aware: I had been aware of the idea of a stubbornness to change that flies in the face of evidence long before the trans ideology coupled itself with the cost-sunk fallacy. Give me empathy points for that one; but topically, it’s one of the analogies. I can think of others.
Have I beat around the bush enough?
I know that it’s DID because of circumstantial evidence (of course): Firstly, during one particular psychosis, I’d arrived at a desire not for the whispers to stop, but that they move elsewhere – which they did; secondly, it was when I’d realized the whispers could be unaware that it were its own personality, the psychosis phenomenon (and all the identifiers signalling its resurgency) ceased.
I’ll leave it up to good-faith psychiatrists and psychologists to piece together this puzzle. ‘Seasoned’ health professionals may not all be a lost and debilitating spirit in the machine, but these people deal with the sick. Something I, too, had been a number of times. With that comes so much room for trauma. (I know of one such psychiatrist who shouldn’t be practicing anymore. She’d long ago become jaded, impairing her judgement; I could see it in her eyes and body language the moment she put me in the box labeled ‘so far gone’. And I knew there was no way to rectify the impression I’d made. Despite being fully aware lapses in memory are normal, after that one appointment, it became very clear very soon a loaded die had been rolled.)
I’ve heard a lot about mental illness cases – and I am aware that the ratio of success cases versus the doomed disproportionately leans in one direction. So, I have no idea how the system can be improved – other than the FDA stopping being captured by the pharmaceutical industry. (After listening to DarkHorse Podcast, the idea that the progress of psychiatric medications haven’t been confused, corrupted, and crippled is so far away in the rear-view mirror that I wonder how I’m not a fucking vegetable right now. Honestly, you take five random reviews on drugs.com for the drug they had me on and amalgamate: that was me – and somehow, I didn’t have it that bad – if that makes any sense at all…)
‘When people are introduced to issues concerning people, things become complex.’ For what it’s worth, I’ve gotten in the habit of saying this.
When people are introduced to issues concerning people, things become complex.
What do I mean by ‘they moved elsewhere’? It’s very easy to answer that question: I merely preferred that rather than hearing ‘voices’ where they’d sprung up in my psyche, they take a more active role through the mimicking of speech. Imagine going to talk without actually talking or moving the lips or anything like that.
Now, considering the whispers receded in their activity once the change had occurred, what does that mean?
I’ve been off whispers and off medication for over one year now. And no psychosis in sight. Before, I was going through psychosis every year since 2015. Then, in 2022, I realized DID was a possibility, and logically, after much contemplation and experience, figured whispers could be a personality that doesn’t know it is one. Add to the mix it obviously doesn’t know anything you don’t: voila! You get peace of mind, and whispers stop having any integrity. (Definitely fully aware mentioning ‘whispers’ there is ammunition for bad-faith actors, but whatever… I haven’t gone through the trouble of trying to coin a word for the way it works for me.)
And it has been a great boon to my mental health knowing that I may be on to something.
Here’s the bad news:
I’m probably going to be dying pretty soon, here. Probably from exhaustion.
You know, I care not for those who’ve made a caricature of me in their heads and discard what I’d done. Incidentally, real people may be aware: The people who’ll shout ‘Get help!’ aren’t even trying and, really, haven’t figured out the difference between real values and an inclination to hysteria. It doesn’t take a genius to realize the ‘easy’ thoughts you see on social media don’t belong to the demographic I am trying to reach. All you knee-jerkers are free to be unthinking, bought, and ignorant for the rest of your lives. That’s what the MSM, the government, and the ‘advertisers’ who they’re beholden to ask of you. Have at ‘er, bud!
No; there may be a pocket of psychiatrists, doctors, musicians, and nerds—level-headed people, the learned, and wanting-to-learn alike—who may come across these writings of mine.
Yea; I’m probably going to be dying pretty soon, here.
Today was the first day I woke up, went to go sit in the black chair, and was almost immediately hit by this muscular exhaustion I’ve become accustomed to in my neck. There’s a general warm, tired soreness more regularly moving into my back at large, as well.
It’s a terrifying world where a person won’t be taken seriously because of their history with ‘mental illness’.
But I understand that there are people out there with real somatic delusions (technically, I may or may not have had them in a previous psychosis, though no matter how many times I’d asked, I didn’t get a straight answer), and your average doctor figures you don’t know shit about nothing to start with. Sorry to all the average doctors out there that don’t feel this way!
My uncle figures the right time to be is when you’re alive.
Bret Weinstein has talked about how tissue can only suffer so much trauma before it can no longer heal. I don’t know whether the cold and fine sore stinging my shoulder-to-neck muscles exhibit is a result of this, or is the result of falling asleep before they’re finished doing their thing – and thus, cannot completely heal overnight.
All I know is it’s getting worse, and it’s obviously happening earlier. Supplementing with protein appears to not help.
Sincerely, this affliction was crossing into torturous only just so long ago, and now it’s, I fear, going to be only torturous from here on out.
I have wondered of the distinction between suffering and torture.
For those who’ve only seen this article: By the way, this injury that’s brought me here would not have brought me here if it were not for some very outstanding circumstances! For this reason, I wholly understand why aid cannot be attained.
I do fear a future where I cannot lay in a moderately comfy bed only when I’m tired and cannot hop on the computer or sit with my phone when I’m not tired; that’s a kind of cruel and unusual. And I can’t even imagine the cruel and unusual of being forced medications again when I’m alive, here, right now.
I’d heard a lot of talk of Cain and Able through the grapevine. One does wonder about the meaning of sacrifice.
On one hand, I know humanity is finite; on the other, I want to stand with those who have it in them to nurture the present.
I have no choice but to assert part of its profundity is consequence of the content it’s become, but even so, when considering how Japanese often omits pronouns, you come to realize these three words aren’t all that you’re looking at. Even when taken at face value, how much can be gleaned from their togetherness.
I have no choice in the matter! This is a beautiful series of words!
Especially when life’s theme is a series of conversations to which we only can fill in the blanks, an interpretation carries the weight of folly. For this reason, I’d a vanishing interest in that of words in music (check chronology). Yet, like any self-respecting rule of thumb, I find exceptions between the cracks.
With that out of the way, a meandering is on the way (feel free to agree this should have been put into a separate work):
I’d like to be able to keep a lid on fascination. When I think about adoration, I realize it’s intrapersonal – and that keeps it measured, I’m sure. I have my idols who’ve all passed now. But I don’t think the point of fandom, broadly speaking, is to change them. If celestial bodies do indeed align, connecting an artist to his fan, surely, the point is to appreciate you’re both aiming for the same thing.
I do say ‘idol’, but honestly, I don’t really know what that means. That said, I do think I did have it right during their lifetimes. I wanted to meet them; that’s probably an idol, yea?
① I have never inflicted a pain on the living that hasn’t paid back in full (and more) in care. ② I have never made the mistake of discarding the usable. ③ I am fully aware and capable of repelling my desire to impose my values on those dearest to me. ④ There was never a better time to repurpose our living quarters for the safekeeping of those dearest to me. ⑤ My friends don’t concern themselves with the things they cannot do, so why should I? ⑥ When in doubt, turn to our shared interests for positive reinforcement. ⑦ I know utility can mean many things, and it’s reasonable to want to find utility in meaning. ⑧ The world opened up to make room for me, and thus, therein, a burden of responsibility can fall to no one else. ⑨ I know the fruit of my labour will inspire the us of tomorrow. ⑩ No one can conceive of the power I wield.
Sometimes the gods of the algorithm see to it that you’re swiftly punished for listening to music on YouTube. Is it justified to be so exacted upon? I wonder. Do these gods deliver their hand to my face in ambivalence, benevolence, or malevolence? Ask yourself—deeply ask yourself, ‘What exactly is the Internet experience here for?’
I present to you, here, the seed of Satan:
Mixes. Back-to-back mixes. And in case it wasn’t clear, these are the evil in your heart! They are the root of EVIL and SUFFERING in this world we call home!
Let us explore the constituents of
—EVIL ・・・
Firstly, ‘evil’ is an acronym for ‘everything vile in the land’! Clearly, the caveman who thought up fire was onto something! Let me explain exactly what he thought so that you, too, can comprehend:
① ‘It is hot!’ ② ‘It destroys!’ ③ ‘In its absence, everything is good and pleasant!’
True, we shouldn’t be blaming cavemen for thinking about fire, but that doesn’t mean casually glossing over the details will benefit us! As the evidence looms, and as the weight of our decisions pale in comparison to the meaning of the sheer number of non-believers, only a hyper-intelligent force like electricity can save us!
Case in point, electricity is emphasizing the importance of mixes to me! This means our fate is being disturbed! It is utilizing the one intermediary that I know it would know I would know would never betray the fabric of being: cyber-foreshadowingI
Cyber-foreshadowing can be summarized in three sets of 15 points; however, for your convenience, I have truncated and simplified the nuances within:
• Algorithms predict the future.
To recap, hot is like hell, evil is on land, etc., etc. Furthermore, with the appearance of unforgiving, back-to-back mixes, a call to every decent human being has been sounded: elucidate YouTube to the urgency of extending customization of the tags for the home feed page.
LET THERE BE NO MIXES WHERE MIXES ARE UNWANTED!!!!!!!!
