Oh, so very many things, and that’s part of the problem. A big part.
I’m growing increasingly discontent with my video game dominated lifestyle so I am looking to expand my life to at least the point it was at before Skyrim stole my life, where I actually did do stuff other than play video games with my free time.
And I have a LOT of free time. Way more free time than committed time, to be honest. And from that point of view, it would seem to be a trivial thing to simply peel a few hours off that fat bundle of time and spend them doing something more productive.
But I have an addiction to wrestle with and those are notoriously unreasonable.
When I imagine leaving the dank but cozy nest of filling all my spare time with video game playing, I get this cold-sweat feeling of deep dark dread accompanied by a chilly feeling like a cold wind blowing through my soul.
And I hate that.
I have lived this particular variation on my cloistered existence for so very, very long that it’s hard for me to even imagine actually doing anything else with my days.
Oh sure, I can imagine all kinds of wonderful alternative activities for my time on Earth. I could explore new social environments like Discord or Snapchat, I could take university courses via remote learning, I could write fresh new stuff and posted it to Not’d and/or send it to traditional publishers, I could try to become a YouTuber.
I’m a brilliant and resourceful fellow and dreaming up alternatives is less than trivial for someone with a mind like mine.
But the intellect is never the problem, is it? Not for me, anyhow.
I have way more intelligence and insights and charisma and so on than I know what to do with. Quite literally.
It’s the fear that is holding me back and keeping me from using all of my powers to make all my dreams come true.
Or at least let me make a fucking living for once in my life.
I suppose that on one level, it all comes down to my problem with making decisions, especially ones that effect or involve me directly.
If I step away from video games, I then have to figure out what the hell to do with myself and that means facing that Infinite Corridor Of Infinite Doors problem of mine.
And that always devolves down to asking myself what I want. And I dunno.
It sounds like the most elementary question you can ask someone. Whaddaya want? Even wee children can answer that one.
In their case, it’s probably candy.
And it’s not quite that I literally have no idea what I want. I want all kinds of things. Sex. Money. A pleasant living space. An occupation. Sex. Luxury. Indulgence. Sex.
Oh, so much sex.
But again, those are dreams, not plans, and to go forward would require choosing one of those things and pursuing it, and I am still afraid to truly want things badly enough to go out into the world to try and get them.
I just make do with what I’ve got, for the most part.
And that almost never changes. So neither does my life. My life in which survival is easy but thriving nearly impossible while I remain in this locked in, blinkered state.
Somehow, I have to convince my deeper self that it is okay to go out into that big bad world full of so much more stimulation and confusion and options and to fight my way upstream as the urge to scurry back into my hidey hole batters me and to do this all with absolutely no certainty of reward or success.
It’s how normal people live, as far as I can tell.
But I am both far more and far less than normal.
And I need someone or something else to provide structure for me.
More after the break.
An open letter
Dear Normal People :
Hi. I’m a mentally ill weirdo from the far edge of the herd.
So no, I don’t think we’ve met before.
Obviously, as I was not raised by wolves in a cabin in the woods, I grew up around normal people like yourself. I might have been that weird fat kid in your class in school, the one who pissed you off by acting like the school work you struggled with was super easy for him.
I hate to break it to you, but it was. It really was. Sorry if that made you feel bad.
But school – the academic part – has always been super easy for me.
It’s the other part – the social part – where I failed miserably. I was the kind of kid who got straight A’s in math, English, and history, but flunked recess and lunch.
It’s also possible that I was that weird fat kid from your neighborhood. Maybe you wondered what the hell my deal was.
Don’t ask me. I’ve never known either.
Anyhow, down to business. I am writing this open letter so I can maybe open a dialogue between folks like you and folks like me.
I am very much a nerd and an intellectual, and that means I have both strengths and weaknesses that you do not.
And to be honest, I have always envied people like you. I might have had high grades but even as a little boy I could see that you had so much that I did not.
Things like warm family connections, a place in the social fabric, a feeling that there was someone looking out for you so it was safe to explore, and so forth and so on.
I would have gladly gone from being an A student to a B student if it meant that I could have had friends, and felt accepted.
And if that’s not enough to quell your envy, take comfort in this : you’re sane, I’m not. You’re functional, and I’m not. I have completely and utterly crashed and burned when I have tried to make it in the real world, and if you are my age, by now you probably have a career, and success, and a home, and a spouse, and a family, and all these other things that people like you think just come to you at a certain point.
After all, all your friends and extended family have them too, and everyone at work as well. So how hard can it be to get them?
Well it’s kind of like a disability. Walking up a flight of stairs is easy for most people. But if you’re in a wheelchair, it’s not just hard it’s impossible.
That’s how it is for me. I’m very good at brainy things like school but none of that matters very much because life is not like school and at some point you have to leave school and deal with the real world and at that, I have completely failed.
So don’t feel bad about where I was back then.
Look at where I ended up now : disabled, unemployed, alone, and on social assistance.
Not so smug now, am I?
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.