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Sort of life story (Warning:potentially long text)
I'll try not to make this too long. Also I apologize for any mistakes I might have made, english isn't my native language and so sometimes I find it difficult to see my mistakes.

When I was a child, I suffered some sort of psychological trauma. I can’t really remember since for most of my childhood and almost all of my early adolescence I wasn’t really present. They later told me it was a reaction to the divorce of my parents, but since they had been divorced for a few years already, I have some doubts. Anyway, whatever happened changed me drastically. Prior to this, I had always been sort of a model son. I was top of my year, I was cheerful, didn’t have what you’d call friends but got along with my classmates on an acceptable level, etc. This sudden change left my mother quite shocked. Suddenly my grades plummeted, I rarely talked, I practically only ate when forced to, and generally seemed like I wanted to jump off a bridge.
At first I guess she must have tried talking to me, though I can’t really remember a conversation with her that ended well. But as time went on and I remained unresponsive she decided on a different path, which sadly was engraving on my brain that, in more or less her words: I was just a parasite for her and for my family. The rest of my family didn’t do much to disprove this either, they generally treated me like a burden. I’ve always thought that in order to not reach a breaking point, a person must have at least one part of his/her life that remains positive. My childhood was comprised of two parts: home, and school. Home was already a negative, and sadly, school wasn’t much different.
At school I had never been what you’d call a social person. I was rather shy and, after this crisis started, I became sort of apathetic. This, coupled with some minor social impairments (difficulty detecting sarcasm or whether someone was joking, basically I took most things at face value. To this day I still struggle with this, but I’ve managed to get better at it), led to my classmates to treat me… let’s say differently. Unfortunately this was something within my detection capabilities and just depressed me more because it seemed like I really was different and inferior.
This combination of bad stimuli led to me to reach a conclusion. My existence was only worth as long as I was useful to someone, but at the same time, I would never be able to do enough to make myself be of equal worth as anybody else. My place in this world was to be scum. And I believed it. I still do, though I have managed to lessen it’s impact on my life.
I also arrived at a solution for my problems. Which, looking back on it, might not have been the best one, but it could have been much worse. I turned to fiction.
It wasn’t so much unlike being on drugs I guess. I would compulsively consume fiction. Whether it was books, TV, videogames, creating stories with toys, paperclips, leaves, food, anything. I would seek anything that led me away from this world. Because every time I had to be stuck with nothing but my own thoughts, I ended up tearing myself to shreds. Emotionally of course.
And so for a few years I lived like that, only being present in the real world to endure increasing degradation from increasing members of my family and the pity and mockery of my classmates. Although there were some good times, I had learned to be distrustful of them. It was like when you have a dream so real and so beautiful you don’t think it is a dream, until the moment you wake up, and then you wonder how you could have ever thought it could be real. I would find an oasis of happiness at some point, try to convince myself that it was a trick, fail, let myself be at ease for a while and then watch it all explode on my face.
That about brings me to the present. I’ve managed to deal with my problems on my own a little, though there are still times when all the memories come back and I feel like the worst piece of shit on the planet, if not the universe. I’ve tried doing things to give my life meaning, but unfortunately I usually just give up because it all seems pointless. Right now I’m working on the script for a sort of short film, and I hope this’ll be the first time I actually finish something. I haven’t talked to any of this to my family or really anyone so I just wanted to get this off my chest. Basically I try to live without giving in to depression There really isn’t any purpose for this text beyond that so please don’t feel obligated to comment. I apologize for the inconsistency of the text, I’m not that good of a writer. If you managed to read this far and didn't leave then thank you for your time, and if you didn’t, well thank you anyways for whatever time you spent on this.
Welcome to the site.
I can understand what you are going though.
Sounds like you are also trying to do random things to just give meaning to your life. Hopefully you can find something that can absorb your concentration to take your mind off of any emptiness you may feel.


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