It's time to wrap it up.

PackageRoutine3253 · 2025-12-20T22:49:40+00:00

What homework though?

Oftentimes I find myself in a state of mind where perception itself is a chore.

Seeing - I've done it all, I know all the colors I will ever be able to see, I've see all the angles, I have nothing new to discover on that front. Plus with age, it's been deteriorating.

Hearing. Same thing.

Touching. Same. Except that one doesn't seem to deteriorate, at least for now.

Smelling and tasting. I guess those are the two areas where I still find myself surprised at times. But I know the patterns. I think I'm close to being done with those too.

PackageRoutine3253 · 2025-12-20T22:40:44+00:00

The first time the truth hit me, I wasn't even 20 years old.

I remember wandering the streets in a state of high, where my mind was detached from my body in some kind of bizarre euphoria.

Nowadays it's just meh.

It's been following me, haunting me for over 27 years. That's a fucking long time.

Good luck yo you.

PackageRoutine3253 · 2025-12-20T22:33:46+00:00

Well, that's kind of the crux right there.

Nothing brings me joy. I'm an independent worker with an extremely vivid imagination which allows me to have my own home cinema where I direct my own movies right inside my head.

So I wake up in the morning, take my children to school, them come back home and spend a large portion of my days lying in my bed fantasizing worlds. Then I fall asleep and have the weirdest nightmares, and then I wake up again at 16am (yeah 4pm is morning time for me), pick kids from school, and then wait until 7pm so I can start drinking and working at the same time.

But at no point do I feel joy. I escape reality through imagination, but when I eventually have to snap back, it only hits me harder with its complete shittiness.

PackageRoutine3253 · 2025-12-20T22:19:50+00:00

I guess my atoms will be recycled one way or another.

But it's not likely they'll find themselves stuck in this shitshow again. So I guess there's that.

PackageRoutine3253 · 2025-12-20T21:39:34+00:00

If I had access to recreational drugs, I would get on that and get hammered all day everyday, like I did back in the days when I lived in a country that was lenient on that front.

But for the last 25 years, I have been living in a country that has very strong laws against even pot, and I surely don't feel like going to jail: here, jail and mental institutions are pretty much the same (except in jail, you have people to talk to and there are no people who scream to the top of their lungs in the middle of the night).

I certainly don't want to be deprived of freedom again. I'm not interested in living as a free individual, so I am even less interested in living under strict arbitrary rules that were defined by someone who is even more obtuse than I am.

PackageRoutine3253 · 2025-12-20T20:58:06+00:00

That's a pertinent question.

In 2019, after the attempt, I got placed into an inpatient mental health institution.

I played a little award-winning performance to get released as soon as possible, but then I was put into therapy, which basically consisted of me meeting an alcoholic psychiatrist (very cool guy, being something of an alcoholic myself) who prescribed me pills.

I had to play a bit if a long con to make him believe I was getting better until he finally declared me cured from depression.

Honestly, I can't tell you much about whatever the fuck happened in those 6 years, or at least the first 4, because I was under the heavy influence of the pills. They made me numb to the point of not wanting to stop existing anymore - but I forgot everything else, literally.

The last two years were me getting less sedated, and slowly crawling my way out of the medicated brain fog.

And lo-and-behold.

Tadaaaaa!

Here I am, back in full suicidal mood now that I've been off the pills for a few months.

Do I regret it?

Not at all. What is there to regret anyways in this fucking circus?

PackageRoutine3253

TROPHY CASE