/hikki/ - Hikikomori

>>7701

Year 8 now. It's been so long.

Closing in on two decades, went from finishing mandatory schooling (10th grade) straight into hikki-dom. If woken up in the middle of my sleep and asked how long I've been living like this, I'd swear only a couple years have passed at most, maybe even as little as a couple months. I remember next to nothing since I dropped out, only a small bundle of blurry memory fragments remain that seemingly fit everywhere and nowhere at once on a linear timeline. Every time I open steam and see 11k hours on Warframe, or 43xx anime finished on anilist I fear that I accidentally logged into someone elses account, but nope - they're mine, I simply remember next to nothing of it. It's as if I died in middle school when I first realized that I was forced into this world, said world is garbage, that the overwhelming majority of humans deserve nothing but my scorn and contempt, that there is no inherent meaning to life and any meaning you create for yourself is fake and so on. Sometimes I wonder if after deleting my diary and waiting a couple more decades my memory would deteriorate so much I could convince myself I am some kind of spirit inhabiting someone else's body, or a failed genetic experiment that has been allowed to rot away while under secret surveillance.

I suppose my memory issues aren't all that surprising really, I spent most of the time asleep or immersed in escapism (predominately video games, anime and daydreaming). In that sense I haven't changed one bit since I was a child just learning to understand the truth of this realm - the world is still utter garbage and I still refuse to accept that this is all there is to life, with the only difference being that I've stopped thinking about it. When my mind is fully immersed in a fictional world, it becomes just as real as the physical realm that my body inhabits, and I don't have to torture myself lamenting about that shithole. The only big change I made of my volition over the years was take a vow of silence prohibiting me from utilizing my vocal cords for communication of any kind, though I do not remember why or precisely when that happened.

A little over 12 years. In all this time, I've never once gone anywhere by myself, barring five occasions, three where I simply walked around the block, one where I went a bit further, and one where I rode my bicycle for the first time in ages to the end of the driveway before swiftly turning back in panic, all five of which happened late at night, with almost each occasion taking place a couple years apart from one another. Even under those circumstances, I still felt extremely anxious, which is essentially why I don't walk or go anywhere, regardless of time of day. My parent's take care of all my needs, so, fortunately, I never have to leave this place and, in the odd occasion when I do (like for a dentist appointment, or whatever), they're always there to accompany me. I simply could not leave the house without them there to support me. Aside from occasionally going on a night drive with my mother, I've literally only been outside 4 times in these last couple years. Same could be said, from 2007-2014. Just increase 4, to 7-9, spread out over years. 2015/2016 was the only anomalous blip for me, due to my nervous breakdown near the end of 2014 (mostly as a result of my now vicious anhedonia first making itself known, me burning myself out on achievement hunting after 6 years straight of it, and not having any sort of room, or space of my own at the time, leading to a lot of stress & headaches) which, altogether, led to me not wanting to spend time in the house. My one & only comfort zone, made momentarily uncomfortable, with, in some sense (outside of the lack of a room, a basic human right if ever there was one), only myself to blame for it.

Not long after the breakdown, mother & I went to the theater a few times and even attended a small town parade during Christmas time. I also went camping with my father & brother during the Summer of 2015 which, physically at the time, I was just barely able to handle. Portaging our canoe & supplies just about killed me, especially since I was still fat and never exercised back then. Even outside of that, I can't say I enjoyed it very much. My mind torments no matter where it is I go. Irrational, obsessive thoughts have plagued me ever since I was a child. I couldn't even sit on a bench because I thought my soul would be sucked out and trapped inside it if I did. Thoughts like that stick in my brain like shards of glass or gnarly wooden splinters which makes being able to relax, even in the most tranquil of settings, next to impossible. I'm also very phobic of bees & other creepy crawlies and I'd go running whenever I saw one, which made me realize how little I belong there, despite beforehand, thinking of nature as some getaway resort from myself.

>>7733

(cont…)

I also went with my parents to visit my brother a few times at his apartment in the big city and I even considered staying there with him for a while, mostly because of how manic & desperate I was at the time to escape from my own shitty situation, not that staying there would've made it any better. I also bought my family tickets to go see Billy Connolly live, since my mother always wanted to see him, so I ended up doing that as well. Turned out to be a bit of a waste though, since the dude was basically a half-dead fossil, gibbering away incoherently and even my mother admitted to how much the show sucked. Thinking back on it, I honestly can't even believe that I even did that. The place was absolutely packed with people, just a shoulder to shoulder wall of meat. Leaving once the show was over, was a god damned nightmare. A literal stream of people making their way towards the exits, with me & my family caught in the middle of it. Like drops of water in a smelly, human river. I'd also just went with my family to see Craig Ferguson a month or so prior, which itself was a pretty awful, disappointing experience, with, of course, another wall of meat to contend with, which, once again, me & my family stood right in the way of, as we were out in the open talking with each other. One very upsetting thing I suffered with throughout both of them however, was the feeling the intense urge to scream at the top of my lungs. Thereby interrupting the performance and making myself seem like the most disruptive lunatic possible, Partly because of anxiety, but also because I literally thought I was just going to lose control myself and do the most insane thing I could think of. I've gotten this before when outside, apparently it's called "Harm OCD" (obsessively, mentally focusing on a harmful action to the point that you fear you might literally do it). Thankfully I've never lost control of myself in public like that, but it's something that truly nauseates me and makes being outside almost akin to a unique kind of torture, outside of anxiety & agoraphobia.

As an aside, I honestly don't understand the appeal of live performances. Those two I mentioned, along with any I've watched online, have usually sucked ass, especially musical performances. I'm not saying live performances can't be good, but just that they're so rare, so as to not be worth going to them in the first place.

Near the start of 2016 I also saw a counselor for a couple weeks, every meeting with my father present and once with my mother as well. The person ended up moving to a different city a few weeks after I started seeing them, which, looking back, I'm kind of grateful for, even though at the time it depressed me. The most they could offer was helping me find a job, or referring me to some shrink, so it's not like much was lost due to their sudden departure. Looking back, it's the sort of thing I smack myself in the head over, in pure cringe. What was I thinking? Fucking stupid, just like everything else I did during that time, let me tell you.

Later that year our cat died, whom I happened to be especially close to. I was already sperging out pretty often due to my lack of a room, but our cat dying, which I had always assumed would leave me so devastated I'd leap off a bridge the day after, left me strangely inert, instead. I sperged out about a week later due to how confused & angry I was with myself, since my family was moving on, but I'd barely even felt a thing. A couple days after that, I finally managed to shed some tears about it once it finally hit me how I'd literally never see him again except for in my dreams, but then it was right back to the emptiness I still carry with me to this day, with only brief moments of deeply missing him interspersing it.

Couple months after that I finally got a room of my own and I've been in here ever since. After those two things happened I just resumed where I had been for most of 2014 & before. Getting a room of my own & a sense of privacy was huge, but losing our cat made me just want to hide away and lose myself in the void of isolation I've known so well, for so long. By the end of 2016, I'd also mostly come to grips with my anhedonia & began playing games again on a mostly regular basis, not that I'd ever really stopped, although I had slowed down immensely.

>>7734

(cont…)

Anyway, ever since then, I've gotten much more depressed & miserable. My mind also feels a lot more fractured & unhinged. I lost a ton of weight last year when I finally began eating healthy food and exercising on a regular basis, but, outside of the obvious improvement to my physical health, I can't say it's really made much of a difference to my mental health. My mind feels like a shattered piece of glass and emotionally I get intense waves of loneliness at times and am constantly wrapped in morbid self-loathing towards myself & the world at large. Everything sucks, I hate myself, and I want to die. Boiled down, that's literally all I think about, or have thought about, for many years now. Every agonizingly slow hour, of every agonizingly slow day. And, worse yet, it's never going to get any better. The pain of my degeneration will only increase and I'm doomed to continually wake up to it, for whatever of my life remains. Eventually, after I've suffered/waited long enough, it will be over. Death. The only consolation I can cling to. It doesn't stop my head from hurting most days, but it's nice to keep in mind, nonetheless. In the end, I don't sleep because I'm tired, but because I can't contemplate the thought of doing anything else and want to escape from myself. I don't play video games for entertainment, but in a desperate, pitifully weak attempt to, once again, escape from my own restlessness. Which itself, is becoming ever more infrequent, as I instead just nap, stare at the wall, or shuffle around listlessly. I can't seem to do anything anymore. I'm just stuck in a stinking bog of my own thoughts & feelings unable to move. Trapped sitting in stationary idleness, with no respite or relief. At this point, I don't want to change or do anything, but idleness still torments me. The ceaseless boredom & anhedonia. I'm like one of those skeletons from PotC. Everything turns to ash in my mouth. I can certainly see myself becoming schizophrenic once my parents die, assuming it is I live that long. My grip on reality feels tenuous enough as it is and there are times where I almost think I can hear voices, or imagine noises where there are none. My sense of continuity is also quite distorted. I often can't separate what's happened in a mundane dream, versus what might have happened in reality. My mind also had tendency these days to try convince myself of things that didn't happen. As a minor example, I'll just miss stubbing my toe on something and about a minute later a part of my mind will try to convince me that I did actually stub my toe. It's a form of self-inflicted gas-lighting that makes me truly question the state of my sanity and it doesn't seem to be going away. I wonder what other excruciating mental ticks or abnormalities are awaiting me in the future.

Sorry for the messy blog post, by the way. I guess I got carried away, due to the fact that I have no friends, no acquaintances and basically no one to talk with besides my parents. Making posts like this is very hard and I doubt I'll be able to manage another for a long time.

Expressing myself has always been so fucking hard. It's really just so damn exhausting. I desperately feel the need to say something so as to relieve, for a time, the incessant pressure of my psyche and the worthless, annoying crap that swirls around inside it, but 99% of the time, no matter how much I try, I just can't meet that need. My brain is like a blank sheet of paper. I feel completely trapped inside my own lack of ability to put words to my own neurotic mess of a mind, along with the various thoughts & feelings therein, tedious & miasmic as they all are. Like a backed up toilet that just won't flush. It's all very frustrating. Either way, I guess it doesn't make much difference. Even in the rare times I "succeed" in saying something, continued hollowness & lack of catharsis is all I can expect by the end of it.

>>7745

>You have very little that you like, so loss hurts you quite a lot.

Hmm, yes & no. Like I said, when our cat died I barely felt anything at all, except confusion, and later spergy anger, at how inert I was. If anything, that whole experience taught me how little I seem to care about losing what little I have, despite always fearing the opposite and the pain that'd bring. These days, the only things I fear losing are my parents. Mostly my mother and, to a lesser extent, my father. Not too long ago it was actually a bit unclear, and still is to some extent, whether my father had/has throat cancer. I remember my mother knocked on my door in a panic one night and, at first, I assumed it was because the test results had come back with a terminal diagnosis for him. In the end, it turned out to be something else, but, even still, before I opened the door, that thought that my father may literally be dying & gone forever soon, hit me like a ton of bricks. I was quite startled at how much it was spiking my anxiety levels & making me panic, despite the fact that I barely even interact with him these days, nor hold him in much concern 99.9% of the time. Either way, I really seem to have underestimated how well I'd handle that kind of situation. If, and when, my mother is in that situation, I'll probably end up going mad with grief/anxiety/dread before even the first day is out. A sneak preview of the anguish that's to come, I guess.

>Even the things that I own and like, I feel like losing sometimes, just so I can be free. I feel suffocated by my own stuff.

I can heavily relate to that, actually. Both in a basic materiel sense & a more figurative one. Was thinking of buying a VR headset with my NEETbux just the other day, but what would be the point? Just one more glorified paper weight that I'll never use, becoming yet another empty possession hanging off my neck that I chastise myself for buying. Hell, I have a whole entertainment system in here, (tower speakers, with an ST60 mounted on the wall & everything), and I haven't even turned it on or used it in well over a year, since I just watch & do everything from my computer desk instead. I'm a very private & lazy person, who always wears headphones, so, as a result, I never use it, even though I'm sure watching anime or anything else, would be far superior via my little, unused HT system. It's a disgusting waste & I hate myself for it. I wish I could just sell it all away & be free from the negative thoughts, instead of having it sit there & remind me constantly of what an insane retard I am. My brother, whom I sometimes converse with when he visits here about anime & such, stepped in here and commented on how nice it must be to watch stuff on my TV, but I was too embarrassed/ashamed to say that I never use it, and it just made me feel like shit.

Another thing I feel trapped by & wish I could be free from are my "hobbies" (as fleeting as they are these days) and treating them like they're a job or checklist. I constantly feel like I'm playing catch-up when it comes to most forms of entertainment. There's just so many classic games I haven't finished or started yet, or notable films/TV shows/anime I haven't got around to watching. A part of me, as ridiculous as it is, feels like I need to consume it all before time runs out. An impossible, futile task if ever there was one. There will never be enough time, despite how often I berate myself for squandering it. The source of it all stemming from a bizarre strain of FOMO. There are ever more frequent times now where it all gets to be too overwhelming, as I grind away at my various backlogs, leading to days (sometimes lasting upwards of a week), where I just shut down & decide to do absolutely nothing instead, making zero progress in the meantime. When all's said & done, my deepest wish would be to simply feel fully comfortable doing nothing, thereby finally letting go of this irrational & toxic "gotta play'em all" mentality, or feeling even the smallest need that I have to do anything with my time at all.

>My only fear of loss is in the future. I don't want my life to be over before it even begins.

I'd say this is the biggest difference between us. My life was a steaming wreck right from the start and I have no other wish, but for this frighteningly, futile, farce to finally be over. I have no hope for the future and, above all else, deeply desire an end to all this as soon as possible. Nothing can be gained from participating in this rotten little world, except unending disappointment in yourself & others. Nothing could be more self-defeating than continuing to live in such a dreadful universe as this and, if I weren't such a pathetic coward, I wouldn't be.

>>7742

It just occurred to me that I'm sorta tripfagging here, aren't I? Sorry about that. I wasn't thinking, so my mistake.