Nazi Germany
Zubeer Adolf Hipster - KVAZAR MOLOCH
- Joined
- Aug 15, 2024
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They call “schizophrenia.” It’s not just a diagnosis; it’s like my brain’s been scribbling its own deranged autobiography since day one, chapter after chapter of things I can’t unread or unfeel, memories that don’t ask permission to exist. There’s no peace here, no neat rows of linear time no, it’s like someone dumped my whole past and present into a blender, hit “puree,” and just let it run.
Imagine this: a childhood that’s more nightmare than memory, but it’s real, every bit of it, stamped into me like a tattoo I can’t scrape off. My real mom? Gone before I could even say her name. Stepmom? The living embodiment of silent judgment, a whole person dedicated to treating me like a permanent inconvenience. Every time she looked at me, it was like a little slap in the face, a reminder that I was there but shouldn’t be, like I was some kind of stray dog they let in by mistake. And don’t get me started on my father. A ghost in real time, present but only in the way that absence can fill a room. He didn’t even have to say anything; his silence was a whole book on all the reasons he didn’t want me.
I walk into a room, and I swear I can still feel my stepmom’s cold stare from 20 years ago, like she’s just around the corner, arms crossed, judging me for breathing too loud. My father’s not even a memory anymore; he’s an ache that’s set up camp in my mind, a constant reminder that I was, and always will be, the kid he didn’t want to know.
And My Father Disowned me When I was 16
Each neurotransmitter now broadcasts on frequencies incompatible with consensus reality (side effects may include spontaneous existence failure and uncontrollable laughter at the cosmic joke of being). My hippocampus has achieved sentience and spends its time writing experimental poetry about the futility of linear time while my amygdala hosts illegal raves for traumatic memories that refuse to respect the laws of causality!
PROOF: Let T = Trauma, where T exists in all possible states simultaneously until observed by consciousness C, which itself exists in a superposition of past/present/future/sideways. Therefore, by the transitive property of psychological devastation, ALL MOMENTS ARE ACTUALLY THE SAME MOMENT VIEWED THROUGH DIFFERENT FLAVORS OF EXISTENTIAL CRISIS!
@BigJimsWornOutTires @_MVP_ @greycel @Vermilioncore @disillusioned
Imagine this: a childhood that’s more nightmare than memory, but it’s real, every bit of it, stamped into me like a tattoo I can’t scrape off. My real mom? Gone before I could even say her name. Stepmom? The living embodiment of silent judgment, a whole person dedicated to treating me like a permanent inconvenience. Every time she looked at me, it was like a little slap in the face, a reminder that I was there but shouldn’t be, like I was some kind of stray dog they let in by mistake. And don’t get me started on my father. A ghost in real time, present but only in the way that absence can fill a room. He didn’t even have to say anything; his silence was a whole book on all the reasons he didn’t want me.
I walk into a room, and I swear I can still feel my stepmom’s cold stare from 20 years ago, like she’s just around the corner, arms crossed, judging me for breathing too loud. My father’s not even a memory anymore; he’s an ache that’s set up camp in my mind, a constant reminder that I was, and always will be, the kid he didn’t want to know.
And My Father Disowned me When I was 16
Each neurotransmitter now broadcasts on frequencies incompatible with consensus reality (side effects may include spontaneous existence failure and uncontrollable laughter at the cosmic joke of being). My hippocampus has achieved sentience and spends its time writing experimental poetry about the futility of linear time while my amygdala hosts illegal raves for traumatic memories that refuse to respect the laws of causality!
PROOF: Let T = Trauma, where T exists in all possible states simultaneously until observed by consciousness C, which itself exists in a superposition of past/present/future/sideways. Therefore, by the transitive property of psychological devastation, ALL MOMENTS ARE ACTUALLY THE SAME MOMENT VIEWED THROUGH DIFFERENT FLAVORS OF EXISTENTIAL CRISIS!
@BigJimsWornOutTires @_MVP_ @greycel @Vermilioncore @disillusioned
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