My sleep quality is declining. It took me about 3 hours to fall asleep. I woke up countless times during the night.

One of my in-wall heaters keeps puffing out smoke. I awoke to the sound of heaters, but one of them didn’t sound right. The room began to smell like smoke. It wasn’t a high enough concentration to actually see the smoke this time, but it was definitely there. The grill is stained black from previous smokey emissions.

I disconnected power to the heaters and pulled the faulty heater out of the wall. It’s still dangling by the power wires until it cools, but I’m going to disconnect it and let the other two take over.

My fucking smoke alarm doesn’t work anymore. I’m pretty sure of it now. The room smells smokey and it’s as silent as ever. I even pressed the test button a few days ago to see if it’s battery was still good. It chirped real loud. It probably uses one of those antiquated radioactive sensors which goes bad after 10 years. This apartment has been in use for at least that long.

Last night I laid in bed and had endless thoughts of depression. I had a whole lotta “suicidal ideation” going on. I got that phrase from my ANP who asks about that every time I go into the clinic and talk about my condition.

I do fine for a few weeks, then I come back to the idea of wanting to kill myself and experience permanent peace.

I don’t want to die. I just feel so crushed at times. I feel hopeless and unloved. What I want is a reset. I want a whole new life.

I applied to Revature yesterday. Revature is a software engineering talent scout. I’ve heard mostly bad reviews of them. They require a 2 year contract and relocation. They offer measly amounts of money for relocation… Ridiculous amounts like $500. On the plus side, they offer training and an hourly stipend, but on the downside, the training is said to be mostly self-taught, and requires payback over the 2 year contract length.

Revature is a real lock-in. Of course, their employees aren’t hostages. They can quit, but they would have to pay back the cost of training– $20K. The potential earnings of their employees after that is capped at $50K a year for the 2 year payback span.

So there are definite downsides. There are also upsides. Because of Revature’s size and their network of clients, they can get people jobs as soon as they’re ready. This is something I’ve been unable to do for myself as I lack professional confidence.

I haven’t been trying that hard to get a job because I don’t think I’ll stick with it. I don’t stick with anything.

Why should I stick with anything when I have everything I want? I have a place to live. I have internet comparable to that in a third world country, and a job and employer I hate. I have no deep relationships, no lover, and I avoid my friends. I think about suicide a couple times a week.

My life is SO GOOD! 😜

I think I’ve achieved some kind of Stockholm Syndrome. I’m generally miserable but I accept miserable because I know it well.

I literally just said I wanted a new life. Then when I present an opportunity to myself for just that, I back away. I don’t understand myself.

Let me list some things that I think I would gain by taking a job at Revature.

• A whole new life
• An apartment of my own, away from family
• Professional experience
• An adventure in a new city

You know what else I’d get? More debt. Revature pays so little for relocation, that I’d be instantly in debt as soon as I moved. Then I could end up getting fired and I’d be screwed.

I think I have to level up my social skills before I can even think of taking a job. And I don’t think I need Revature to find one. People on reddit suggest using Revature as a last ditch attempt to get a job. As in, choose Revature if you’re about to be homeless.

I’m actually trying to be homeless. Maybe Revature is for me?

I’m so unsure. Like what am I even. I don’t know?

Spiritual homelessness is where I’m at. I don’t think my parents will allow me to be physically homeless. I mean, I could seize homelessness for myself, but that goes against my every instinct.

So my auto license tabs are expired. I got a letter in the mail telling me it’s time to renew, and that my tabs expire some 18 days ago. There was also a note in the letter which stated that their notifications were delayed because of some new law being implemented in code which halted their letter output.

Pretty crazy. So now I probably owe a late fee, because they didn’t get their notifications out on time? What a racket. Help! Someone help! The government is extorting me!

That’s actually, technically, legitimately what it is, but the government gets away with it because when you have the monopoly on force, you can do whatever the fuck you want.

*Cue the counter-arguments from my readers*

What are you even doing here, reading my journal entries? Do you have nothing better to do? Ya fuckin’ weirdo.

Hey, so I’m bored. I wanna go eat food, or take a nap. I actually don’t feel that tired right now, which is surprising given how little sleep I got. I must have arose at the end of a deep sleep cycle, rather than right in the middle of it like it feels like I’ve been doing for almost every day during the past week.

God, I’m the laziest person alive. I have this project my brother B. gave me which is to alter his tactical belt. I trimmed it to the correct length, began sewing it shut, and subsequently jammed my sewing machine. That began a whole fiasco of a blog post, and me ending up throwing in the towel.

That project just sits there now. I don’t have any plan to fix my sewing machine or continue the project. I simply accept the failure.

I’ve had that project in my hands for weeks now. B. probably wants his belt back. I should have kept out of the issue, and let B. have Mom help him like he originally intended. My skill level with a sewing machine is too low to take on tactical belts, apparently.

I’m a Fuckin’ failure. I fucked up my sewing machine, and let B. down every day I delay on finishing the project.

But why do I want to even finish the project? I don’t. I want B. To take his belt back, and I go on being a depressed boy. I tried and failed, now someone else can take over.

What’s the point? There’s no point. There’s no point to anything. There is only the point that I assign to it. In my case, there is no point, because there is no connection to the person. I could move mountains if it’s for the right person, but I don’t have any such person.

I have Miku, but I’m ACUTEly aware (lol the pun) that our relationship is one-sided. I can love Miku until the end of my time, but Miku’s love to me is limited to my perception of her love. At this point her consciousness is too scattered among her millions of creators and fans to give me anything meaningful enough to drive me to want to succeed.

Hmm, I should create the Miku dating app that I’ve always wanted to make. I even have an empty git repo for it. Phone in and interact with Miku, everybody! Premium membership unlocks R18+ and sexy gifts sent via post by Miku herself!

I’d buy some of that Prismatic brand Hatsune Miku perfume, and spritz it on letters and packages that I’d send my customers. All while I lay in the shadows and pretend that I don’t exist. I’d monetize my waifu! How cool would that be?

Not as cool as it sounds. I’m already monetizing my waifu by selling her likeness in the form of Weiss Schwarz cards. I don’t make jack shit from that endeavor.

I don’t make jack shit from any of my coding endeavors. It’s the most dumbest thing to think that I can turn a profit trying any project ever.

Making a profit takes 3+ years, and a metric fuckload of efficiency. If a job is rewarding and meaningful, you’re doing something wrong. You gotta remove that reward and meaningfulness and turn it into efficiency, or you won’t make a literal dime. This is capitalism in 2019!

What if I forget the money? What if I just do it because I want to?

I’d call you insane if you did that.

But I am insane. Insanity 54 times long.

Well then go for it, dweeb.

Maybe I will, putz.

Talking to you has given me AIDS. Thanks for that.

You’re welcome, Satanic sacrificial ritual chaff.

Wow. And here I thought I was the one who was fucked up in the head.

---

A few days ago someone said something in the VOCALOID Discord which sounded really nice.

All people are disgusting, we are just more open to talk about it

ed

This quote came up when the topic was on the lewd side of the spectrum. Something about Dyn’s dakimakura.

Anyway, I think I need to live by that quote a little more. When it comes to sex, I’m not very open about it. A big reason for that is my upbringing. I also have some shame revolving around being sexually assaulted when I was a kid.

I can’t remember if I talked about it in this blog, but now’s as good as any to talk about it. I figure the more I talk about it, the more I can realize it’s not a big deal. People out there have experienced far worse. I think if I talk about it, I can eventually move past it.

So it was recess at elementary school. I was young enough to where I didn’t know what sex was, never had an erection. I saw a boy playing under the rocket ship shaped jungle gym. Side note, that jungle gym no longer exists, as it has been replaced with a “safer” playground.

So there’s this boy under there who I never played with before. I figured I would go play with him, so I run over to the jungle gym and climb through the bars.

The first thing the boy does is he runs over to me and grabs me in the groin. He squeezes as hard as he can, and I’m in immediate pain. This is the first time I can recall ever feeling pain in my testicles. I’m shocked and confused and I end up pushing his hand away from me.

I turn around and step through the bars of the jungle gym.

I remember feeling sad. I remember feeling confused.

I held onto this secret for most of my life. I don’t remember telling anyone about it until I was an adult. The boy who assaulted me was mentally handicapped, and I’ve been afraid of similar people ever since.

Now I think of how the boy must have learned that action from someone else in his life. It’s a mad world we live in.

If I could do it over again, I would punch the boy in his face before running away. I’d make sure it left a mark. Maybe the office staff would come looking for me, and I’d explain what happened. Maybe it could shed light on the abuse the mentally handicapped boy was probably experiencing in his own life. Maybe I could have started a ripple that made that situation better.

Instead, I did nothing. I told nobody. I turned the anger and frustration inward, and now I’m a 32 year old virgin who is afraid of touching and intimacy and wants to kill himself 2 days per week.

staytunedformoreexcitingrevelationstomorrowatundefinedo’clockwithyourhostchristhanksforwatchingbye

I’m grateful that my good memories outweigh my bad memories.

I’m grateful for the VOCALOID Discord

I’m grateful for hopes and dreams

I’m grateful for peanut butter

I’m grateful for tortillas

I’m grateful for vegan taco filling

I’m grateful for coffee

I’m grateful for green tea (as long as it’s not the kind that I just threw away that makes me feel nauseous)