DREAMS OF A LOST MOONCHILD

I was just thinking about something – like that whole talk I had with myself here on the blog about returning to basics, and talk about inspiration and shit like that. But posting Kryos made me think about it you know?

Of course I can’t go back to basics, cause my basics changed – time changed, and I changed.

I do not believe in my own skills anymore, neither as an author, blogger or online person. I failed spectacularly on every level there is – and so I took that L and work with it… is it pretty, also no.

So how the fuck am I supposed to talk about inspiration, when I am just not inspirational? I can link to other people stuff, sure. but you can google that shit yourself if you are so inclined.

And I know I totally did this to myself, and as I talked about over and over, it’s both liberating and bugging the fuck out of me. Because if it truly didn’t bother me at all, why would I make entry after entry, whining about it. Right? But this then leads to the liberating part.

I can only do this – because no one reads it.

And so you know I thought about: is it because of the weird interface on WordPress? did I do a shit job of promoting it too? And you know what? both those statements are probably true. But it does come down to me being absolutely fucking insufferable. And don’t think it’s only online, I just don’t like people anymore, and I have nothing to say. I can’t fucking smalltalk anymore. And my coworkers who are roughly my own age, they talk about projects, travels, shopping, their garden, their grandkids and so fucking forth.

Those who know me well have seen this in action many, many times. I shit you not, people ignore me and keep talking even if I awkwardly repeat myself twice, or they leave while I talk, or they turn around and start talking about something else. Never have I been invited to come eat at the lunch room, and never am I invited to fuck all unless it’s all of the office.

And it’s just my life you know? It’s why I hate to socialize and will avoid it like the plague when I can. Because it makes me feel so fucking lonely and sad, even typing it up makes me sad.

And no I do not have fucking autism. I am just not like them, and no matter how I try I will never be.

Let me give you a story from real life okay? I went to a bbq with old friends, and my youngest daughter was with me (she is almost 19 just sayin). Afterwards she told me about her watching me talk with this guy, and he was desperately trying to either end the conversation or get away politely, and I just kept talking. My daughter found it super amusing… And I just hadn’t noticed, or thought about it.

Bitch, that is my life. If I was supposed to stop talking because people didn’t want to have a conversation with me, i might as well go fucking mute. As I said above it’s just how it is, I am so used to it that I don’t even notice anymore. So where others get all awkward, I don’t pick up on it at all. That is not because I have shitty social skills, but because I taught myself to not care.

And here is the super weird part, because everyone gets all ‘concerned’ when you don’t interact and engage – and yet they also do not want you to engage with them… so you must engage, but with someone else… or eh… I don’t fucking get it okay? You don’t want to talk to me, I don’t want to talk to you – could we perhaps just not talk?`

And it doesn’t matter if I am drunk or sober – except when i am drunk I am brutally blunt, and would call you out on it, like ‘dude i can move chairs if you’d prefer that’, or ‘I can call you have places to be, nice.’

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I talked with an old coworker (there are some few psychos who does actually talk to me), and he was talking about this chick that he is with on off. and I started to think… dude, I have not had someone give me a compliment, or a flirtatious remark since before 2004. What the fuck ?

I know I am not exactly pretty, but dude… And that is when I came to the conclusion that I am just not a pleasant person at all.

All this does wonders for my depression, let me tell you.

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And online? well I deleted most my SoMe, and stopped talking on any discord or whatever, and did anyone respond? nope, not one. Not a singular person found it strange, or wondered what happened. Not that I would have fucking told them anyway, but still; not one.

Amazing really.

But that is like this guy I know that always takes photos at any event, and I am never ever on those fucking photos. It’s like I never participate in anything because yeah – I couldn’t tell you why. And it’s not his fault that it taps into a childhood thing, and I never did tell him, nor will I. But I think there exist a total of perhaps 20 photos of me from birth till I was 21’ish – because I was the chosen child, right? the artist favorite muse… hahahahah

Holy fuck man, I feel so loved.

And that is also why I am so fucking salty in regards to the AI art issue, and why I keep returning to it. Because I felt so goddamn betrayed, these are people I have been talking to online for years. I was fucking shocked, I think that was the best word for it. And now I feel like it’s my dirty secret or something, and every time I get an idea for a tutorial, a narrated video or something like that – I stop and tell myself that if I make it, I make it for me only.

I mean it was madness, you should think I had done something deeply criminal, which by their logic I probably did. But goddamn, I met more empathy from street signs – and it completely took my joy of this new tool I found – I wanted to show off my narrated stories, I wanted to give people graphics to make their own things like visual novels, blog graphics, video thumbnails… all that creativity just fucking murdered, right there.

And when I have to sit there and type up in the rules to the mebb that ai entries are not allowed, it feels so fucking disingenuous, because I only do that to placate whatever is left of that community. I know they have strong opinions on this topic, and I meant it when I said I was done talking about it with people.

But I simply cannot get past the hypocrisy of people who do fanart and fanfics, bitching about ai. And all it does is just making me withdraw even more from the social aspect of it.

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And again these are all just pieces who are not related, when you stick them together, they do paint a lovely picture when you are me.

I am loud, I am funny, I take up space – and you’d never know. Now I am not going to gatekeep depression, but still I’ll say that true lifelong depression is when you don’t think, you fucking know – that you don’t matter. Like, I know a fuckton of people, but they don’t know me. And why is that? because they don’t want to, and it’s fine, I wouldn’t want to know me either.

And this is why I write, I tap into that bottomless feeling of being insignificant and unwanted. I know I said this before, but there is no feeling more devastating than being ‘tolerated’, surrounded by people who don’t care, but they also can’t tell you to fuck off, or have security escort you outside.

And if I were to feel rejected by being tolerated, dude I’d have no reason to get out of bed.

And my kids you ask? besides the fact they are adults, well they never had another mother, so of course they care – that is seriously low hanging fruit, and I know it would hurt them all a lot if I ever told them, that in the big equation – it equals to nothing. I forced them into this world, they had no choice than to depend on me – because I was there. It’s like a weird form of Stockholm syndrome, man.

I write because I get to be in someone elses head for a little while, or weave stories bigger than me – and just let loose. It’s my therapy, and this is why I hate what I write, because it’s all me in some way or another – they are like a testement to my nothingness.

And this blog? well I will probably just sit here and whine till WordPress tells me to shut the fuck up.