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Not caring and the blackhole it brought

I've come to a realization about myself. A very... disturbing realization.

I have decided that ever since I was 12 years old, that I shouldn't care anymore. I shut off my emotions, my personality, and my own capability to pay attention. Both my Uncle and me have agreed that it had something to do with my half-siblings being born. I got less attention and I think I hated it. Something on a certain day made me decide that enough was enough and I shut myself off in alot of ways. Held anything that I felt in. Held my thoughts to myself. Killed any personality I could have. Killed any hope of having a life, let alone living it.

Even holidays, people, small victories for myself. None of it matters. It gets sucked up into this negative blackhole to never have value or meaning to me again. My blackhole isn't hard to define either. It's my destroyed self-worth. It's my unhealthy desire to escape to videogames. It's my unhealthy desire to escape into fantasization.

You know. People always talk about drugs and alchohol when the topic of addiction comes up. But the unseen things are more insidious and poisonous. Addiction comes in many more shapes and forms than the commonly talked about things. And it's sad. It's horrendously sad.

Even now I have thoughts in my head that nothing matters. That whatever I do will not matter anyway. It'll be gone before I ever have a chance to forge anything happy for myself.

You know. My last creation. My last shown character. Azeth. They are me. My embodiment of all I feel. Hopelessness. Pain. Unhappiness. Despair. Nihilism. My genderfluidity.

I don't know if I can dig myself out. But on some off chance I do. I just hope I find peace in my life. That I can live with myself.

Screw relationships. Screw labels. Screw the judgemental, controlling, people of the earth.

Give me solace that I have self-determined worth. Not worldly worth. Not societal worth.


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