Confession of a mental patient.
What more can I say?\ Let's start from my childhood. Since I was little, I was always bullied; purely a victim (skipping over the bloody and tearful history…). I remember in the first year of middle school, a student from the neighboring class slapped me in public. I didn't even dare to fight back. That day when I went home and lay on the bed, I kept thinking about how to perfectly murder him.\ I wrote countless plans in my notebook, accumulating probably over a hundred thousand words. Later, the notebook was discovered.\ I was publicly criticized by the whole school. Others didn't know the background and just thought I was abnormal. My mental state completely collapsed at that time.\ I don't even know how I got through it. Even after transferring schools, the psychological shadow remained.\ I became increasingly reclusive. I remember one summer vacation, I simply didn't go outside at all. I didn't speak a single word.\ I kept wondering why the world is so absurd. I had my own theories.\ All behavior in the world is simply supported by instinct. For example, so-called parental love for children is just the animal instinct to protect offspring. Affection for parents or dependence on them is just the brain's instinctive attachment to what can benefit oneself. As for filial piety, it is merely the combination of parents wanting someone to take care of them and the childhood attachment to them.\ Once you tear apart the beautiful facade, what's behind it is this simple.\ Sometimes I conflictingly want to get rid of these things. But I merge with these beautiful lies and grow together with them. Tearing them apart also kills me.\ So I began to fear the terrifying thoughts produced by another version of me. I was extremely conflicted. I wanted to force out that other self, and sometimes I even thought of suicide.\ I would even drink my own blood.\ I developed inexplicable fantasies. I imagined myself as a perverted killer, killing everyone who bullied me, making them carry my negative emotions, rampaging and venting in my world.\ I got rid of myself, but then I became entangled with the killer version of me.\ Sometimes, in a half-awake, half-asleep state, I would behave perversely. For example, in the third year of middle school, I dismembered a cat using my hands and a stone.\ I don't know, I really don't know. The grievances I've suffered since childhood—in the hospital, at school, anywhere—I felt like someone was always watching me, commenting on me, calling me a pervert. No one knew my inner self, my madness. The suffering I endured from childhood, mentally and spiritually, is ten thousand times heavier than you can imagine!
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Although I know it's not appropriate to say this now, I still want to say: That cat is really pitiful! Also, I wish the original poster an early recovery from the emotional shadow.
Old Hui, when you were a child you were bullied and had few friends, so you had to write everything in a notebook. Because you couldn't tell anyone, in the end your secret—the notebook—was discovered. Finally, you broke down. Although I haven't had this experience, I understand this feeling. Do you want to hear my confession?
The problem is that I have already deteriorated into illness, I am very aware of it, but I can't change.
Hehehehehe, little jerk is just passing by, by the way: life always has beautiful underworlds, even if it doesn't, there are also some in the virtual world.
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