What hurt my feelings.

I’ve tried to put it behind me, but I have to address it. I cannot get it out of my head.

I wish someone here had cared.


All of my worst memories are times when I showed a Human something I loved, and I got the worst, rudest response possible. I remember when I streamed my favorite video game for my ‘friends’, and, God. One just had to act like a cunt. It doesn’t hurt, anymore, but I want to put it down on paper. I hate you.

It was then that I realized that, no matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, when I shared nice things with Humans, it was just going to be… the same thing. I remember when I was a kid and I showed my ‘friends’ the secret ending to Super Metroid. One of them, the biggest one, turns to me and says, ‘are you gay?’. Like an insult. I remember looking down at his fingers.

I was sharing something I loved, with someone else, who I thought would be equally, or more-delighted. The other kid thought it was so cool; the bigger kid punched him, too.

For some reason, when I kept on showing people nice things, and I kept on getting the absolute worst responses, I just… I just kept doing it. I just kept on trying with Human beings, because, I thought— I thought— well, first, that I couldn’t just write everybody off. But, I could. And I should have. Second, or zeroth, I was lonely. I didn’t have anybody else to really talk to, for a very long time. But, third, I thought… I don’t know. I just don’t know. I don’t think I want to think about that anymore.


I remember when I was younger, and I thought somebody I cared about really cared about what I had to say, and I was trying to explain something to them, and they just, they just had no time for it. They just wanted to get away from me. See, they had their own problems.

But it really hurt me. I had nobody else to talk to. So, I talked to them.

They didn’t give a shit. For most of my life, they were so wrapped up in themselves, they barely cared. They seemed to think of me as being a burden, after the age of 6 or 7. And that’s fine— I don’t think about them hardly anymore.

But I wish they had been better.


When I leave, I keep on thinking about what I’m going to do, there. What is there, left, to do? I don’t know. I don’t like thinking of it in Human terms.

I’m sure there’s plenty to do. And I’m sure there’s plenty of trouble I can get myself into; to keep myself from slowly going insane.

But I do think that I wanted this to be better than it was.


I think what I’m tired of, is the lack of control.

When my page on Wikipedia got deleted, I felt relief. At least those shitheads wouldn’t get to be writing the byline of my life. But then, when I kept on looking at Wikitubia, this little Fandom wiki for YouTubers, I started going… do I really want this?

And then some kid just up and deleted it.

And I went, eh.

That’s what the Internet is, basically. Just a bunch of dumb little shitheads all fucking around. It’s impossible to control without also giving these people your energy. And so, I thought, welp. Article’s gone. It was poorly-written and I could think of literally nothing to add to it. I excised a bunch of stupid shit from it, and then, it got baleeted.

But now, it’s back. It’s been silently restored. The person who deleted it, they’re not even in the logs anymore.

I had this idea of having fun on the Internet, that I don’t think is really feasible, anymore. But I don’t know what else to do.


I go to work. I eat out. I come home. I feel like shit.

I’m sick. I don’t know with what. But I know that something is wrong. Something has been wrong for a very long time. And while I’m doing my best to fix it, and I know I’ll survive this, I don’t know. I just don’t know.

Sometimes I do physical activities. I like to chop wood; though, I am getting more and more tired, more easily. I don’t know what that’s all about.

This year I am growing a secret garden in my house. There are two types of tomatoes; broccoli; two kinds of strawberries; and an orange tree. The orange tree seems locked in time. It is healthy, but does not really grow. Probably it needs more heat; heat that I cannot safely give it.

Who sells an orange tree in goddamned Illinois.


What bothers me right now, and has, for a very long time, is the following.

I don’t actually like anybody online. Like, all the strangers? I feel little to no good feelings for anyone anymore. I have friends who I like. But, a lot of the time, I lament that I’ll never actually be able to connect wif them on the level I want to.

Somebody put it like this: “like two trains passing in the night.” Not ships: trains. That’s how I feel. We’re, for all intents and purposes, close to one another. But we’re parallel. We do not connect at any given time.

I’ve reached out for other people for so long that I don’t think I ever considered the possibility that there is no one who will ever reach out to me on the same level.

Usually, when I find people who seem to be doing so, they’re actually people trying to hurt me. Or rob me. Like this woman who started talking to me about the subject matter of my book; with the sole intention of stealing it for something she was writing. What a nightmare.


That’s not actually what I was intending on writing about.

What actually bothers me about online right now is there is nothing good written about anybody. You want to be famous? Good luck, because it’s all the same shit. There is no journalism anymore. It’s just people tearing people down.

My utmost wish was to have some sort of positive regard for me, from Humans, before I left. But I’m not going to get that, because, I think, Humans are not capable of that.

It would’ve been nice to have something. And it also would’ve been nice to share something.

But the camaraderie necessary for such a thing, simply is not there.

In general, I’m tired of praising everybody, and listening to their problems, and giving a shit about what they have to say to me, when nobody does the same for me.