отключил бы, разрезал ножницами этот провод, и не писал бы тебе. я понимаю как я тебе противен и ненужен и скучен. я помню как меня тошнило когда в квипе звучало это оповещение, я отрывал, а там опять эта несимпатичная неинтересная мне малолетка, слушающая какойто ебучий токио хотель, пишет мне что-то
насколько сильно я тебе ненужен и тошен, настолько же сильно мне нужно хотябы писать тебе.
я, у которого желание быть близким с девушкой было настолько сильно что аж сделало инвалидом, не могу принять что та, которую мне случилось таковой воспринимать, ровная противоположность ей в действительности.
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блять да поговори же со мной хоть чучуть.. по-человечески же прошу.. хоть и матом.
я не могу догадаться почему, как такое может быть, что у тебя совсем нет симпатии к моей ситуации. почему ты не понимаешь что ты единственная вообще в жизни кто общался со мной из тех кто мне нравились. я не смогу никогда забыть уже такой опыт. что произошло почему ты перестала со мной общаться? чем я раньше отличался когда ты отвечала? я был дебильнее, я тогда вообще книг ни одной не читал, жадным был, безопытным, инфантильным, даже не представлял что возможно в рим какой-то поехать, или в турцию как вы там вдвоём. в голове не было такого варианта. я только после прошлого лета догадался предложить тебе типа оплатить тебе поездку лишь бы с тобой побыть, первый раз у меня такая мысль была, в 24, представь какой я был ребёнок до этого. я бы щас не рискова и не выкинул деньги, ведь теперь я знаю что с ними я бы мог на крайний случай если совсем одиноко однажды будет предложить за мой счёт плюс ещё за пол миллиона с какой-нибудь очень красивой типа тебя девушкой съездить куда-нибудь. а я не задумывался вообще о том что так можно. у меня вся жизнь проёбана, я не знаю как больше заработать деньги на авито нет возможности найти курьерскую работу, ничего теперь нихуя блять нет и я не могу выучить английский до с2 чтобы быть какимнибудь переводчиком хотябы. блять и ты не отвечаешь. ну как мне не истерить? вон меня, забанили везде. сейчас через час на алексеиче бан кончится и там начну истерить опять, несколько часов и там забанят опять блять. сука. а вместо всего этого я бы лучше этого ёбаного властелина колец последние две книги дочитал и джульетту доразобрал за февраль. нихуя не могу, я не хочу в руки брать электронную книгу, мне слишком жалко себя и что у меня так всё получилось
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ссылкаs-вк/id107003360
( не знаю к чему тут эта девка, может раньше она была красивая и писал с петровича, а щас я гляунл это какаято уже мамаша. ей от меня с основной в 2020ом есть интимные запросы в разных месяцах )
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got banned absolutely everywhere. on each of my several accounts on VK, on foreveralone-communities on reddit, on an image-board (an analog of 4chan). on every significant russian site on mental issues and communities on it within VK. i quarrel with everybody everywhere, all because of my self-pity.
recently i even had to create a special community for the sake of my being in touch with girls if there appeared one. i forgot i wrote here what i was doing late months or not. in brief, ive been looking for a girl who would accept to let me hug her for $10. its a good sum in russia. a daily wage of a middleclass worker. and i ask just 20 minutes of hugging.
ссылкаs-вк/hochuobnimat
(there are examples of girls I like, by the way)
so i created this community so that users of VK, the candidate girls, could check in and I would connect with them some other way, during my ban period. for two months i posted and spammed all over VK but so far to no result. I have a very strict criterion for a candidate. ill copy my poetical ad below this text, there is something about the criterions. (by the way, if anybody read this at all, maybe you could say if my poem is understandable? i still have this damned failure-to-learn-english issue, still am prone to fits of crying and pessimism because of my poor english. poor english at the age of 25 is a complete life fail for me).
but today on one of my fake account one girl wrote and even offered money herself to hug me. but she is not attractive to me at all, of course.
Dasha hasnt replied since the middle of december. Since that time i also live alone (my mum went to our native part of the country). new year holiday was spent in tears and suffering and wailing.
i dont do anything at all except think of girls, weep over my lost youth, masturbate few times a day a dirtiest and most perverse way. tomorrow im going to call a few free psychiatric centers that there are in our city. i have to get a doctors recommendation to meet Dasha. these were her last words: she will consider meeting with me if i go to therapy and the doctor says Itll help me to meet with her. im not going to treat anything, but im going to have some consultation with a male doctor, even for little money if these free centers dont provide verbal consultations (the treatment of every mental disorder in russia tends to just putting the person under neuroleptics), and i m 70% sure he will say positively. and then, unbeknownst to my parents, im going to buy the tickets and go to my hometown and see her for the first time in 6 years. i tried to persuade her to meet with me without a doctors recommendation, i proved for her the fact that i lost all my money and i cant go to a doctor, I sent her a photo of the documents, i wrote and sent her three huge letters in the beginning of february, but they are unanswered. she is very principled. but I cannot just up and go to a doctor. a doctor here costs $50100 for a consultation. my monthly pension is $200. but recently i found those free centers, and they there also in any case provide consultations for just $20, and this is more or less bearable, so im going to call them tomorrow.
( у меня был тред на какомто крупном забугорным форуме по anxiety модному у них там термину и там были все эти правильнутые америкосовские бабы модераторы, котоыре летом и там меня заблокируют, но отдельно вот в дни этих постов я помню что там какаято не понимала что я имею ввиду ввиду под meet with dasha. я и сам не знаю как на инглише писать «встретиться с дашей», для многих это непонятно даже на русском, включая, по видимости, и саму выёбистую дашу,,, но там у забугорных они короче, как я потом понял, воспринмали это как date dasha, типа встречаться с дашей. и это есесно их возмущало, они не видели ни пользы ни даже возможности этого, и таким образом ещё больше считали меня психотическим неадекватом. короче у меня нигде нискем не было понимания всю жизнь по тем или иным причинам )
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12 02 18
As I said its not that simple to go to a therapist when youve only got $200 monthly, lost all your and parents lifes earning and have no opportunity to earn anything again. I eat $50 of my pension (my ration is chicken, cereals and tea), $70 for utility bills, and I have to save the rest for various emergency in the future. Im not going to suffer from toothache or be toothless (all my kindred are toothless and I hate being toothless as I hate my life), or to be left in this cell of a room without a computer when this one is down. I cannot help masturbating with anal perversions and experiments (this is the only thing that makes me feel like I do something real and natural, not this fake jerking off) and if something happens I dont want to die of peritonitis awaiting the govern healthcare.
Apart from that, there are other obstacles.
Ive called these four (for a six-million-people city) consultation centres today, two were busy (and they are known for ever lacking available times for a consultation, and also they are female-staffed and I need to speak to a male doctor), and the other two: the first begins to list at the end of the month and that will be for March or April I guess, and the second Ive got to call them on Thursday morning and maybe theyll have an available time for next week. The last one is that which I wrote about and they offer these cheap $20 consultations also, so Ill try to arrange one if on Thursday they dont have any for free.
I wasnt abused in my childhood any worse than the average child. All my mates back at school and kindergarten were raised by hysterical mothers, and also were beaten and reproached for bad behaviour and grades and all that. They are, of course, all no-lifers now (judging by photos), but they are not hysterical and neurotic like I am and have ever been. Never did I see them crying, nor they were so obsessed with sex and girls like I was, nor were they so envious and so perfectionistic, or so anxious over the matter of physical pain, death and dying. They liked fighting-schools, all that mortal combat stuff, and other male hobbies, and they now live in my home **** of a town, and are fully content there. When my mum went to that town in the summer of 2016 she met one of my schoolmates and she said everything was still the same with him: he was basking at the beach in the company of his mum and grandmums like back at 2002. I cant bear such infantility.
No one of the guys ended up developing an OCD issue, dropping out of school at so young age, and being an internet pervert and freak.
I was more neurotic than others from the very beginning. I am neurotic by genes (everyone on my mothers side was neurotic and hysterical) and because of some experience in the first two years of life. Bowlby explains it well, Im now reading his another book, preparing to argue with the therapist if he should be another moron and not understand my situation and believe I have schizophrenic and psychotic issues.
The consultations are 50 minutes long, as I learned today. Now I wonder how to tell all my story in so short a time, maybe its better to write everything on a paper and give it to him to read.
Of course I keep a journal, more than 1000 book-pages now, the bigger half of which I wrote through 2017.
>> Can I ask you why you think all of your previous therapists were morons?
Everyone becomes deaf to my explanation of the psychological reasons of my situation as soon as they get the information that I has already been diagnosed with some shizo-disrder in childhood. Especially it is true with therapists in govern mental-health institutions (to one of which Im going again). No one is going to re-diagnose anything and try to treat me psychologically. Theyll tie me to a bunk and give neuroleptics, nothing more. I have taken neuroleptics, nothing changed, I still was envious, wanted girls and normal life, was very depressed in thoughts. Nothing changed except these things: I couldnt cry tears, I had no will to do anything physically and I couldnt piss unless I shat. But everybody, except myself, were, of course, satisfied: I was quiet and not dangerous.
Im not going to any treatment, you take me wrong. Im going to get a therapists recommendation to meet with Dasha in person, thats all. Ill record it on tape (dictaphone in my mobilephone in my pocket, or even openly) and Ill send it to her so that she «consider the opportunity of meeting with me» at long last.
The fact that I met with that girl ( целуйтаня ) for money in 2011 and got rid of the gnawing desire to experience kiss and intimacy and for a whole week felt like I was another man, and now can resort to the remembrance of the smile she gave me after we had parted (she turned smiling and waved hand to me, although she could well not turn and go away), along with the fact that Ive ever become happier whenever I got the thing Id been wanting badly all this will be my arguments for the advisability to meet with her. Ive been obsessed with this desire since I lost money and with it all the hopes for other things. Even before that, to meet with Dasha had been becoming the most desired thing to do in life, and after the ruin of everything else it really became most desired. She has become kind of mystery to me, representing, posessing and having expirienced all the things I havent had and am not going to. I cannot stand it that Im being denied such a trifle as to see and know her in person, it torments me more and more.
As for getting a job, there are many obstacles, but the main one is this: Im not going to spend my lifetime earning money to treat myself for issues for developing of which I was not responsible (this is applicable to any issues, psychological and physical). And I even dont blame my parents for doing nothing, as long as social awareness of psychology and psychiatry is at so undevelopped a stage there is no one and nothing to blame, its just that Im unlucky. To spend life on treating problems with body and mind just doesnt make sense to me. I dont like to have a human body, dont like to live this life. Let the issues kill me, I dont mind.