Madness Endowed; I Am Nothing, And Nothing Lasts Forever.

My background:

I had started wondering about death and would habitually wish for death and say ‘never mind’ 3 times afterward. This started when I was around 10, until one day I stopped saying ‘never mind’ and decided to see what would happen.

My life has been met with intense anger, anger that caused me to once whip my mother with a PC controller wire after I smashed it off the banister when I was around 16.

I started cutting myself on Valentine’s Day 2007, senior year. I started under the notion that everyone would leave me once we graduated. They all did except one. My last friend kept saying he was coming over, only to continually put things off. I sent him an email stating that I was glad his friend had died. That was the last I heard from him; I lost everything.

Over the course of the year and following year, I would practically scream for him. I had not left the house at all for a complete year and a few months. I had starved myself from being around 200 pounds to 140. Everything from cutting myself to pounding myself in the stomach, head, and various locations had happened. I would consistently look left towards the window, thinking someone would show up like they used to.

One day, in August 2008, I was looking for a manual to a game on the internet. There was not a single help file or video on YouTube. At that moment, I realized there would never be a person to speak to me ever again. I had lost the final piece of hope I had left, and I went into a ballistic rage and smashed three of the windows in the house. The pain became a laugh; the most wonderful laugh I’ve ever felt. I screamed a laugh of madness.

After I smashed the windows, my mother called my uncle to look at the windows. I had gone outside a little while after he came over, and he decided to come outside afterward to taunt me. “You really think you’re so tough? Why don’t you punch me in the face?” My initial reaction to back down occurred, but then I thought of what this type of person actually was. I closed my eyes for a brief second, and punched him like I wanted to. He pummeled me to the ground, I was bleeding, and it felt so wonderful.

The cops came a few minutes later, and talked to me while I was sitting on the back porch. After a few words, they decided it best to send me to a hospital. I had stayed at the hospital for a week, slightly medicated. My roommate was very nice to me, but I still think the nurses were jack asses. They diagnosed me as being either bipolar or having a split personality disorder. After giving me Seroquel and Risperdol on two occasions, I’ve still never heard which one they decided upon, even after asking the useless fucks.

I had stayed at my father’s house for two weeks afterward, since the landlady said I wasn’t allowed back. He consistently belittled me, and after I had put in 15+ job applications like he asked, he claimed I had no ‘drive’. One day, I woke up and left. I haven’t spoken to him since, and I don’t ever care to; I ‘drove’ away.

I went back home to basically hide from the landlady. I put in a few more applications, and I had gotten a job at my mother’s workplace. Around a week after I started, I left, not informing anyone and threw the name tag in the lobby. Afterward I walked to my uncle’s house to apologize. He then proved to be nothing but a homophobic, black-hating nuisance a few years later as if he wasn’t at the start, and I now regret apologizing.

During the job, I had run into a ‘friend’ I knew from high school in the alley after work. Three years have gone by since then, and my consistent efforts to try and get him to visit me or for myself to visit him have failed. I now no longer care to speak to him, or anyone else that has spoken to me, for they remain incredibly hurtful in the same regard, and only wish to lecture me and not make any time for me, never even speaking to me in a simple email.

He had made me feel like I had a friend in the beginning, and I cried in a sense of happiness. He gave me the ability to want to write things about myself, and to be more open with my feelings, but my feelings are useless if there’s never anyone to tell them to directly. I had been writing for the most of those two years afterward, and I saved them in around 250+ text documents; some serious, others not so much.

On 12/13/09, after I had been questioning my reason for existing and everything else on the planet, I had come to the realization that I am a homosexual. All my unnecessary anger had finally made sense to me, and I felt like every pain in my body had lifted. The thoughts during this sexual questioning had lasted for those few years, using Google to try and make sense of it, from the thought of being called a ******, queer, and gay in school from as far back as 2nd grade. It brought back the thoughts of wanting to be a woman after I had played a hentai game called X-Change that I got from the old days of Kazaa and Kazaa Lite when I was still in middle school. It made sense of the few times in an unstable anger that I had held a pair of scissors around my penis. It led to hyperventilating; hearing my breath echo in my head. Afterward, I felt so much happiness that I barely ate or slept for 3 days straight. I only got around an hour each night and was too excited to care.

I had subsequent panic attacks almost every other day after that until the pain from telling my last friend how I was glad his friend died had left from being able to apologize to him. I felt I had fallen in love with him 2 years prior without the ability to recognize it, and had forced myself to speak to him at his work in July of 2010. He had been friends with me for around 6 months, and my happiness had started to return to me. It has been 1 year since he last spoke to me on the internet or has come to see me. I ran into him twice, but that was about it. No replies or anything else.

I had been spontaneously leaving the house, sometimes even crying down an alley with only socks on at 5 am, desperately hoping there was still someone left from around November of ’08 to May of 2011.

In February of 2011, 4 years since I initially started, I had stopped cutting myself. My last cut was an attempt at a Glasgow/Chelsea smile.

In March of 2011, the boiler had backfired or technically ‘exploded’, covering everything in the house in soot. We got an eviction notice during the week the cleaners came which was near the end of March/early April.

On May 3rd, I had noticed the sticky mouse trap had caught another mouse. The anxious feeling in my heart of having absolutely no one to talk to, internet or otherwise, gave me the most awesome idea I ever had. From the initial boiler incident, we had surgical-style masks and gloves. I put them on, with my big headphones, and proceeded to leave the house with the mouse in hand. I danced around from some video game music, and showed it to everyone that walked by, including the cars on Main St. I had left it by someone’s house by a Sunoco, then I proceeded to dance and pole dance by the corner that had a bank and a Walgreens for an hour before the cop came.

On May 15th, we got evicted. My mother, my grandma, and I had moved into my grandma’s sister’s one bedroom apartment in one of those old-person type living centers. We had been there for around 2 months before they threatened to evict her for letting us stay there. For the next two-three months, we had been avoiding security and the rest of the residents by going through the back door.

My initial thought of living a ‘straight edge’ lifestyle had been removed by one line in a movie called Whatever Works a few months prior. After saying for years that there is no importance in life, and that stating drugs and alcohol made people think less ‘clearly’, I had wondered what the use would be to think clearly about knowing that humanity is useless. My mother had comparatively said his behavior matched mine as if she was watching a movie about me.

I had started going with my mother on First Friday art walks that happen once a month for free wine and food in the meantime.

I had watched a movie during this time about a transgendered person being killed for wearing women’s clothes. It was a time I had cried for the desire to be a woman; the most I’ve cried during any movie.

I had also gone to Careerlink sometime beforehand during my stay. The one lady had asked what I’d like to do, and I said I’d rather be dead, jokingly. She then sent me to the one person in the building that was some sort of intensely on-edge ‘psychiatrist’ of disproportions. She had talked to me for a while, and said if I wasn’t willing to get a job that I’d be ‘stuck’ and ‘left behind’. She had then suggested I sign up for SSI, which I’ve never felt the need to do, as well as my mother had refused to even take me down to the building afterward. The only thing I could think of sometime after she had said that was, “If you’re ‘stuck’ under a tree, you will be ‘left behind’ unless you’re willing to obey my orders.” That’s all that echoed through my head.

The pain of being useless and the thought that everyone refuses to love jobless people under any circumstances had inevitably stayed with me since the beginning when I graduated. During the time I was at my great aunt’s place, I had been reminded of this behavior by seeing people on talk shows like Jerry Springer, where even the host was against the notion of not working. I had inevitably gone into a fiery rage, and almost decided upon jumping out the window due to being on the 5th floor of a 7-story high rise. After that, I had seen a special on ‘Sloth’ on the History Channel. They touched up on this anti-jobless behavior and put up a scenario that solidified my notion of refusing to work ever again. The thought that they considered energy drinks and coffee were being made because ‘god forbid’ you don’t have the ‘drive’ to work for a corrupt employer and a scumbag nation drove me mad once more. Linking religious agenda to the reasoning they make shit like Monster infuriated me out of any desire to feel the need to work.

Lectured and abandoned, being told that I’m in a ‘comfort zone’ because I live with my mother, sucking off her ‘teet’ as my father put it during the time I was there, and this is what you expect me to do after you ridicule people that wish to live this lifestyle? People with this behavior as if every housewife of yesteryear is somehow nothing but worthless whores that leech off their husbands because they never obtained anything from your precious monetary system in an effort to fuel their ego have gotten on my last nerve.

In October of last year, we had rented a place to live, granted it cost more than the last place. I was forced to sign a lease, something that seriously disgusts both my mother and I. All of our crap was in storage, which it still is today. She rented a U-Haul, and people insisted on putting things in there that we really didn’t want, since we were used to not having any closet-space or dressers from being in the apartment. After they had put it all on the truck, they never helped unload any of it, and left both my mother and I to unload everything into a house that was originally only going to be a 1-year deal in the fucking rain, in order to get the truck back on time.

I had felt that madness of abandonment come back a few days later, and I smashed another window in the house and ripped the door to my room off the hinge on the next day, screaming that someone should call the cops because at least, well since the country is much more willing to give criminals a free roof and food more-so than people who follow every single law of this bastard country that are left to die homeless, I felt it would have been a better idea to just go to a place where, if in fact I disobey them, they would never threaten to throw me out on the street for not working.

Despite now having to continually fight with a faulty internet connection because Verizon is a bunch of shit heads that ‘somehow’ managed to send two of their modems and then attempt to charge us for the second one even though no one asked for it, here I am today.

Current standing:

My mentality has been tormented; my reasons for working destroyed. I am a 22 year old male homosexual virgin that has never been in a relationship with anyone and has no real life friends. I had originally met up with two guys from a dating site, both of which made comments about being lazy, despite my effort to contact them, and never spoke to me again. The one had told me I had to ‘get out there’, despite that the sole reason I even bothered calling and meeting the fuck was that I was ‘getting out there’ and then questioned my sexuality because I had never been with anyone.

I decided that I will not work, and that if I can’t be allowed to live the life I desire of staying home, if there’s no longer any type of support after my mother dies IF in fact she dies before me, I will die after she does.

I had originally taken two math classes senior year. I got in the 90′s in Calculus, and almost failed Business Math because I am fucking done with your precious documentation. I’m done, and if I can’t have anyone in this life, it’s over. My mother is all I live for anymore, since she’s the last one that cares.