I failed English in my senior year of high school. I was never good at it, I only ever excelled at math and related subjects. Sure I could "improve" with practice, but I wasn't improving quickly enough. I had a real English teacher. Not some post modernist who would pass your shit if you put enough feelings into it. I knew I was going to fail. It was fucking high school. I'm incompetent at life. I failed to learn basic life skills. Everything my dad tried to teach me about cars was received, understood, and then forgotten for lack of use. I never learned how to drive. What few opportunities I had to learn when neither of my parents were working and the car was available, I squandered by staying indoors like a shut in. I can't remember where I've been. The names of roads, places, and such. I've been to the nearest stores so many times, and yet I can't remember where they are without GPS. I have abnormal difficulty remembering names of people I often talk to, and especially family I don't often see. I knew I was a failure, and that I was not going to accomplish any of life's milestones.
Not long before the end of my senior year, I hung myself with my favorite belt. I choked for a few moments, and then the belt broke. I keep the buckle by my bed. I almost tried to kill myself again a couple days later with a strong dog leash that was sure to not break, but I had second thoughts and decided I would continue living as a failure and drown myself in virtual hedonism until my family acknowledged I had a problem, was a problem, was beyond help, kicked my bum ass out and let me starve on the street.
It's taking longer than I thought. I threw some shit together for the final project about my career plans, which I did not really have. I job shadowed an embalmer for a day, because it was convenient. I attended my first funeral that day. I did not know who died or anyone in that family. The teacher gave me a just barely passing grade, not because I just barely passed, but out of a combination of pity and not wanting to deal with me for another year. I graduated. My family was proud. I said goodbye to the small circle people that I considered friends, though I believe the feeling was only mutual with about two of them. My dad was ex military. His benefits give me a full ride through college. That's where I'd delay the inevitable next, for as long as possible.
College is a fucking joke, even in a place with fairly low pozz levels. It's an extension of high school for at least the first year to year and a half. There may be a difficulty spike at first, but it's not hard to acclimate. I got lucky my first semester. Got a "non-traditional" English class where we ended writing about vidya, playing some shitty walking simulator vidya, writing about that, and making an absolutely garbage board game as a final project. At least I got to pick which shitty walking simulators I had to play and write about. There was one good game I played for that class. Papers Please. I passed the class easily. Everything in the first semester was easy. Then came the second required English class. I wasn't nearly so lucky.
I've been through four semesters. I'm entering my junior year of what would be a four year degree. I have failed this class three times in a row, with only small improvement on each failure. Not nearly enough of it. Though my last English professor was definitely a literal propaganda pushing Jew who would only accept papers about progressivism. Despite sticking to the hard sciences and majoring in tech, I've gotten to what is supposed to be halfway and don't feel I've learned anything applicable yet. For two years my parents and occasionally their friends have driven me to campus. The excuse being not that I didn't have a license, but that we simply didn't have enough cars. I literally live in my parents' basement with no light in my room. I am also this anon >>199 and cannot ejaculate no matter how much I masturbate, only from the occasional wet dream. Whether it's pure disgust for what is wrong with me or some sort of psychological problem, I do not know.
Now class is just a couple weeks away. I think I may have failed more than just English last semester out of sheer apathy, but haven't checked out of sheer apathy. I haven't registered for classes yet. I can't remember what classes I was supposed to register for, cannot find the paper I wrote them down on, and don't know if I would even be able to if I failed classes other than English last semester.
Every day I feel that my family will finally openly acknowledge that I'm a failure and try some sort of useless intervention before realizing I'm a lost cause. Every year I'm amazed I've lasted this long and think they genuinely believe that my awesome life is somewhat together and that I'm on the road to success.
At least I have fun playing video games.