abstract smeared wojak


It was one of these days. Trying to sleep in my bed, it is alredy midnight. Thinking about exactly when my life started going down. Out of nowhere old memories comes back. I find myself in my childhood. My friends are playing with their cheap crappy water guns and asking me to join them. Going back to home to ask money from my mom. It is not much more expensive than a couple piece of chewing gums. Me asking money pisses off mom. She starts beating me in front of my friends. Trying to pull me in. My friend's mom calls me. She gives the money to buy two of these stupid water guns. It was the most shameful moment of my life probably. I don't want to take the money but she puts it in my hand. I wipe off my tears and go buy two of these stupid toys. We play until the sunbeat but I cannot fully enjoy it due to shame crushing my heart deep inside.

Then I remember my primary school days. I don't have much friends at school. All other kids are bunch of jerks. They never let me play with them. One day they are planning a prank on other class. Kids are being kids. They feel an irrational hatred towards them despite not knowing any of them. They take a piece of glue and put it on one of the desks. I am not involved in any of these since they do not like me. I only hear about that after they have already done their thing. Principal summons those who involved in this and they also give my name. In the principal's room they all trying to blame everything on me. Doesn't matter how much I cry I cannot convince the principal I have nothing to do with this shit. They luckily let us go after a warning. I want to punch these little fuckers in the face but I don't.

Then comes my middle school memories. Oh what a nightmare it was. In the second or third week of the school I already got myself into trouble. Or should I say trouble has found me. There is this ugly little manlet who is trying to pick on me because he is a racist piece of shit. As the other fuckers. One day one of the teachers sees him punching me. He gets his ass slapped by this teacher. But he is determined to take his revenge on me. It doesn't matter that I am not the one who yeeted his ass. After the school ends he is waiting for me in front of door and punching me in the face with iron knuckles. My face gets swollen for about a week. I look like a trainwreck. And the fucker gets away with it. I still dream about chopping his head off with a blunt machete. After all these I spent 3 more years in that drug infested terrorist nest. And dealt with equally terrible motherfuckers.

What a childhood. Almost seems like I was one step away from being a school shooter. It is not like I never dreamed about it but I was always one bad day away from doing a stupid shit like that. But the worst memories are the ones our brains trying to hide too deep inside. And one day, out of nowhere, you remember it. At first you cannot beleive it actually happened. You start to think it was nothing but a nightmare. Then other details comes in. When eventually all the pieces fit together and the puzzle is complete you have a picture you cannot ever talk about. Cannot even tell it to yourself. Like a dead body coming to surface. You need to dig it deeper than ever and should not talk about it.

Then the realization kicks in. What if my life was always fucked up and there is nothing I can do to fix it? What if my mind got fucked beyond repair? Is this nightmare ever gonna end?

23 NOVEMBER 2021

If there is anyone still reading this website and wonders, I am not dead yet. But everything is shitter than ever. My anxiety and depression is so severe I feel like I live underwater. Sorry for the depressive start but I cannot lie, I fucked up even more. I was busy staying in my room, avoiding my family and friends. And I did not post anything for more than 2 months I guess. I did not want to complain about how terrible things are every single day. It would be boring to read. I feel tiny bit better now comparing with how I felt before. A month ago I have found my dad's pistol. With two loaded magazines. I cannot lie, picking the easy way out has crossed my mind. I was keeping one of the bullets in my drawer. The suicidal thoughts lasted for a while. When your mind is clouded you cannot think straight.

Now I am back to try harder. It is not like I can feel any worse than this. I am gonna get rid of the victim mindset because I realized this is what's holding me back. Complaining never solved any problem before. At least for me.