If you've read my previous thread where I was talking about having started a journal, you might have also read that I mentioned a story that I wrote down in said journal, of which I thought that you guys might also find it interesting. This is the story.
On that day, I was sleepy in the middle of the day, so I decided to go to sleep. Someone had different plans for me, though - my dad. When he came into my room, unsolicited, he saw that my room was pretty messy. I'm talking pizza cartons lying around, empty bottles, clothes were on the floor, ... The usual symptoms of being depressed, basically - no motivation to do anything, cleaning up included, no motivation to be hygienic as that would take effort to do - and when he saw all of this he aggressively insisted that I clean up immediately. I told him that I would do it after getting some sleep. Whether I would have actually done it after sleeping, I don't know. Maybe yes. Maybe not. But that didn't matter because he kept insisting that I do it right now.
I didn't want to argue with this cunt, so I actually cleaned my room. However, I wouldn't go to sleep right after cleaning up. Instead, I decided to go to my own apartment, so I could sleep and do anything else without the possibility of him interrupting me again. And that is precisely what I did - I put on my clothes, the most basic clothes I could find, as I didn't intend on interacting with people, I didn't even put on a watch, even though I somewhat collect watches and feel naked going outside without one, I packed some things, so I'd have stuff to do over there, such as my Nintendo Switch, my Laptop, etc., and ordered a cab.
On arrival, the food I had eaten that day ambushed me. Turns out, the combination of food items I ate don't really go well together. Here is what I had eaten that day (I'm a fatcel, so prepare yourself mentally): Two cheesy liver cheese rolls (wow this sounds stupid in English), one pack of Babybel cheese, one pack of salami sticks (90 grams), one 0.75l bottle of banana flavored milk, almost an entire 1.5l bottle of ice tea lemon, and almost 180 grams of koala shaped cookies with cocoa filling. I don't think it matters whether you are lactose intolerant or not - that combination will send your ass straight to the toilet. You may be wondering why I'm talking about all of this in such great detail. Trust me, this will be important later.
After finishing my toilet adventure, I laid down on my couch. After messing around with my phone for a bit, I decided to try falling asleep. As I have never slept on that couch in that place before, I'm sure you can imagine that I had some difficulties. Luckily, I thought ahead of this and made sure I had some melatonin capsules with me. I took a 5g capsule and tried again. I don't know why, but I perceived the noises coming from outside and possibly even above my apartment as if they were inside mine, so, even though I knew my door was closed and there was no way anyone would randomly break in, I got very paranoid and still had issues falling asleep. Eventually, however, it worked. Usually, after waking up after taking melatonin, I feel like shit. Like I'm hungover. This time, however, I felt like shit in a different way. When I woke up, I had this strange feeling on the left side of my chest. Being a fatcel and a smoker into the bargain, I assumed the worst. I am 21 years old, so a heart attack would be pretty rare, but I didn't want to exclude this from my list of what could cause this feeling. Other signs that indicate that you're having a heart attack include pain in the left arm and your back. I didn't have those symptoms. In fact, I didn't feel any pain at all - just this weird feeling. However, in the mandatory first aid class you have to take for you to be able to get your driver's license, I learned that heart attacks can also go unnoticed. There are people who have heart attacks without noticing it, apparently. Then I remembered watching some paramedics TikTok video once where in one of his sketches he asked his patient whether it hurts if he breathes in, so I took a deep breath and, sure enough, I felt some pain.
At this point, I still wasn't 100% convinced that I was having a heart attack, so instead of calling an ambulance and potentially wasting their time on nothing serious, I decided to find someone else to call, like a friend, so someone would be with me in the worst case. My best friend was in another country at that time, at a wedding more specifically, and I honestly didn't want to ruin his trip and wedding mood by telling him that I might fucking die, so he was out of the question. I have another friend, but I felt like we weren't close enough for me to talk to him about such a situation, as weird as it may sound. I had two people on Discord that I once vented to because I felt like I could talk to nobody else, so I tried calling them. No response - probably busy. So, with no other options in mind, I decided to call my mom. Apparently she was not at home at that time, and she likely had her internet turned off to "save battery" or for some other dumb fucking reason, so she didn't pick up my call either. Don't ask me why I didn't get the idea to call her normally - probably because I panicked. So, as a very last resort, I decided to call the one person that indirectly got me in this situation in the first place - my dad.
When I called him and explained my situation, he told me that I shouldn't call an ambulance as it would "cost money if it was nothing serious". I'm sure it wouldn't have cost any money, we don't live in America, but I didn't bother correcting him and starting an argument. Instead, he told me I should pack my things, get home and that we'll take a look at this together. He is not a doctor, so I have no idea what exactly he would have done if I had called a cab and went home, but shortly after this suggestion he remembered that there is a hospital close to where I live and suggested that I should go there so they can confirm whether it is serious or not. This sounded better to me than taking a cap, possibly getting a heart attack while on the way and then have the immigrant taxi driver do nothing to save me because he is too stupid to understand what's happening, so I went ahead and visited the hospital.
Turns out, it was not a regular hospital, but one specifically for accidents. Usually, they are not responsible for issues like mine, but what are they going to do, let me die? So they did an electrocardiogram, checked my blood pressure and monitored my pulse. As I am a fatcel, my blood pressure and my heart rate were higher than usual, so they decided to call an ambulance for me. The one thing I wanted to avoid - great. They didn't seem to hurry up though, neither did the ambulance, so it looks like they thought this wasn't as urgent.
When the ambulance arrived, I got a surprise. I expected two men to come and pick me up, but as you can probably tell by the title, that wasn't the case. I got TWO female paramedics. What are the odds of that?
They made me sit in this wheelchair, to avoid me from kissing the floor if I passed out, and pushed me to the ambulance. How embarrassing this was... a foid pushing me, a young, fat guy, to an ambulance in a wheelchair like I am too stupid to walk. When they got inside the ambulance and looked for a hospital they can put me in, they started asking the basic questions. Then we got to questions that added further to the embarrassment. They asked whether I was taking any medicine, so I had to tell them that I was taking antidepressants. If they didn't think I was a loser yet, they do now, but it's not over yet. Then they started asking me why I was taking them, as if it wasn't obvious, and what mental things I have going on in general, to which I told them that I have an appointment on the 4th of September, so I can actually get diagnosed. Then they put the last nail in the coffin by asking me what I suspect of having. I probably should have lied or refused to answer. I didn't though, and told them I suspect having a form of ADHD.
This is fucking great. A young, fat guy who suspects that he may get a heart attack, is depressed and likely has ADHD. If that's not something that makes a woman fall head over heels for someone, I don't know what is.
Shortly after, we started driving to the hospital. Then all of a sudden, something very unexpected happened: The foid that was sitting in the back with me, who happened to be only one year older than me, started a conversation with me. It was the most generic question one can ask, she asked what my hobbies are, but still, I really didn't expect that. As you can probably imagine, though, she didn't ask me because she was genuinely interested in what my hobbies are. The reason why she started a conversation is a. out of friendliness and b. because she wanted to avoid sitting in awkward silence.
I don't really have any hobbies, and was noticeably struggling to come up with something to tell her, so I decided on just being honest again and told her that I lost interest in all of my hobbies. It's not like I can save my ass anyway. In an attempt to make it seem like things aren't as bad, however, I said that I collect watches. Man, had I only worn a watch that day, maybe I could have made myself look like a loser who isn't as much of a loser. For context, I collect watches from luxury brands such as Rolex, Patek Philippe, and Richard Mille. Obviously, they aren't authentic. Otherwise, I had bought myself a girlfriend with that money by now, but how would she know? The bag I had with me was from Louis Vuitton, so she might have believed it.
From there we kept talking and by some miracle it didn't get too awkward. I was enjoying this a lot - I felt like there was hope left for me - like a Chad. And then, however, it hit me. I remembered what I look like and came back to reality. How brutal it is to know that nothing that I could have said, done or owned would have convinced her to date me or made her fall in love with me... Even if she didn't know that I am depressed and possibly have ADHD, even if she thought I was wealthy enough to throw my money at luxury goods, even if she hadn't pushed me in a wheelchair because I might get a heart attack soon, I still wouldn't have any chance.
This is just so heartbreaking. My mood instantly changed. I still talked to her and I even tried to continue the conversation when we arrived at the hospital, like a total fucking simp, but at this point I simply didn't care if I actually got a heart attack and died right there and then. I also didn't care about what the hospital has to say. I just wanted to go home. But what can I do? I can't just leave now, so I waited for my turn, did the exact same tests they did at the accident hospital, with the exception of them also analyzing my blood, and then waited for my results... for HOURS. I really wanted to go home, yet I had to sit there and wait for them to take care of other patients before coming back to my results.
At around 2 AM, they called me in. So, was this feeling I had in my chest something serious? Regarding my heart? Was it a heart attack that could happen at any minute? No. As it turns out, the weird feeling I had in my chest and the pain I got when breathing in were caused by the fact that I ate way too much before laying down. Not sure how this can happen, I'm not a doctor, but apparently eating way too much and laying down right after can compress your esophagus and lead to what I had. Then I got the usual lecture how being fat is bad and I should lose weight, like I didn't know this already, and was free to go. I ordered a cab, drove to my apartment to pick up the stuff I left there, and then drove home.
In summary, I panicked, embarrassed myself infront of two foids, fucked up my mood in the process of it, and waited for hours just because I ate too much and went to sleep after the fact. Great.
Wow, this is a long story, huh? Was it at least worth it? Probably not.
On that day, I was sleepy in the middle of the day, so I decided to go to sleep. Someone had different plans for me, though - my dad. When he came into my room, unsolicited, he saw that my room was pretty messy. I'm talking pizza cartons lying around, empty bottles, clothes were on the floor, ... The usual symptoms of being depressed, basically - no motivation to do anything, cleaning up included, no motivation to be hygienic as that would take effort to do - and when he saw all of this he aggressively insisted that I clean up immediately. I told him that I would do it after getting some sleep. Whether I would have actually done it after sleeping, I don't know. Maybe yes. Maybe not. But that didn't matter because he kept insisting that I do it right now.
I didn't want to argue with this cunt, so I actually cleaned my room. However, I wouldn't go to sleep right after cleaning up. Instead, I decided to go to my own apartment, so I could sleep and do anything else without the possibility of him interrupting me again. And that is precisely what I did - I put on my clothes, the most basic clothes I could find, as I didn't intend on interacting with people, I didn't even put on a watch, even though I somewhat collect watches and feel naked going outside without one, I packed some things, so I'd have stuff to do over there, such as my Nintendo Switch, my Laptop, etc., and ordered a cab.
On arrival, the food I had eaten that day ambushed me. Turns out, the combination of food items I ate don't really go well together. Here is what I had eaten that day (I'm a fatcel, so prepare yourself mentally): Two cheesy liver cheese rolls (wow this sounds stupid in English), one pack of Babybel cheese, one pack of salami sticks (90 grams), one 0.75l bottle of banana flavored milk, almost an entire 1.5l bottle of ice tea lemon, and almost 180 grams of koala shaped cookies with cocoa filling. I don't think it matters whether you are lactose intolerant or not - that combination will send your ass straight to the toilet. You may be wondering why I'm talking about all of this in such great detail. Trust me, this will be important later.
After finishing my toilet adventure, I laid down on my couch. After messing around with my phone for a bit, I decided to try falling asleep. As I have never slept on that couch in that place before, I'm sure you can imagine that I had some difficulties. Luckily, I thought ahead of this and made sure I had some melatonin capsules with me. I took a 5g capsule and tried again. I don't know why, but I perceived the noises coming from outside and possibly even above my apartment as if they were inside mine, so, even though I knew my door was closed and there was no way anyone would randomly break in, I got very paranoid and still had issues falling asleep. Eventually, however, it worked. Usually, after waking up after taking melatonin, I feel like shit. Like I'm hungover. This time, however, I felt like shit in a different way. When I woke up, I had this strange feeling on the left side of my chest. Being a fatcel and a smoker into the bargain, I assumed the worst. I am 21 years old, so a heart attack would be pretty rare, but I didn't want to exclude this from my list of what could cause this feeling. Other signs that indicate that you're having a heart attack include pain in the left arm and your back. I didn't have those symptoms. In fact, I didn't feel any pain at all - just this weird feeling. However, in the mandatory first aid class you have to take for you to be able to get your driver's license, I learned that heart attacks can also go unnoticed. There are people who have heart attacks without noticing it, apparently. Then I remembered watching some paramedics TikTok video once where in one of his sketches he asked his patient whether it hurts if he breathes in, so I took a deep breath and, sure enough, I felt some pain.
At this point, I still wasn't 100% convinced that I was having a heart attack, so instead of calling an ambulance and potentially wasting their time on nothing serious, I decided to find someone else to call, like a friend, so someone would be with me in the worst case. My best friend was in another country at that time, at a wedding more specifically, and I honestly didn't want to ruin his trip and wedding mood by telling him that I might fucking die, so he was out of the question. I have another friend, but I felt like we weren't close enough for me to talk to him about such a situation, as weird as it may sound. I had two people on Discord that I once vented to because I felt like I could talk to nobody else, so I tried calling them. No response - probably busy. So, with no other options in mind, I decided to call my mom. Apparently she was not at home at that time, and she likely had her internet turned off to "save battery" or for some other dumb fucking reason, so she didn't pick up my call either. Don't ask me why I didn't get the idea to call her normally - probably because I panicked. So, as a very last resort, I decided to call the one person that indirectly got me in this situation in the first place - my dad.
When I called him and explained my situation, he told me that I shouldn't call an ambulance as it would "cost money if it was nothing serious". I'm sure it wouldn't have cost any money, we don't live in America, but I didn't bother correcting him and starting an argument. Instead, he told me I should pack my things, get home and that we'll take a look at this together. He is not a doctor, so I have no idea what exactly he would have done if I had called a cab and went home, but shortly after this suggestion he remembered that there is a hospital close to where I live and suggested that I should go there so they can confirm whether it is serious or not. This sounded better to me than taking a cap, possibly getting a heart attack while on the way and then have the immigrant taxi driver do nothing to save me because he is too stupid to understand what's happening, so I went ahead and visited the hospital.
Turns out, it was not a regular hospital, but one specifically for accidents. Usually, they are not responsible for issues like mine, but what are they going to do, let me die? So they did an electrocardiogram, checked my blood pressure and monitored my pulse. As I am a fatcel, my blood pressure and my heart rate were higher than usual, so they decided to call an ambulance for me. The one thing I wanted to avoid - great. They didn't seem to hurry up though, neither did the ambulance, so it looks like they thought this wasn't as urgent.
When the ambulance arrived, I got a surprise. I expected two men to come and pick me up, but as you can probably tell by the title, that wasn't the case. I got TWO female paramedics. What are the odds of that?
They made me sit in this wheelchair, to avoid me from kissing the floor if I passed out, and pushed me to the ambulance. How embarrassing this was... a foid pushing me, a young, fat guy, to an ambulance in a wheelchair like I am too stupid to walk. When they got inside the ambulance and looked for a hospital they can put me in, they started asking the basic questions. Then we got to questions that added further to the embarrassment. They asked whether I was taking any medicine, so I had to tell them that I was taking antidepressants. If they didn't think I was a loser yet, they do now, but it's not over yet. Then they started asking me why I was taking them, as if it wasn't obvious, and what mental things I have going on in general, to which I told them that I have an appointment on the 4th of September, so I can actually get diagnosed. Then they put the last nail in the coffin by asking me what I suspect of having. I probably should have lied or refused to answer. I didn't though, and told them I suspect having a form of ADHD.
This is fucking great. A young, fat guy who suspects that he may get a heart attack, is depressed and likely has ADHD. If that's not something that makes a woman fall head over heels for someone, I don't know what is.
Shortly after, we started driving to the hospital. Then all of a sudden, something very unexpected happened: The foid that was sitting in the back with me, who happened to be only one year older than me, started a conversation with me. It was the most generic question one can ask, she asked what my hobbies are, but still, I really didn't expect that. As you can probably imagine, though, she didn't ask me because she was genuinely interested in what my hobbies are. The reason why she started a conversation is a. out of friendliness and b. because she wanted to avoid sitting in awkward silence.
I don't really have any hobbies, and was noticeably struggling to come up with something to tell her, so I decided on just being honest again and told her that I lost interest in all of my hobbies. It's not like I can save my ass anyway. In an attempt to make it seem like things aren't as bad, however, I said that I collect watches. Man, had I only worn a watch that day, maybe I could have made myself look like a loser who isn't as much of a loser. For context, I collect watches from luxury brands such as Rolex, Patek Philippe, and Richard Mille. Obviously, they aren't authentic. Otherwise, I had bought myself a girlfriend with that money by now, but how would she know? The bag I had with me was from Louis Vuitton, so she might have believed it.
From there we kept talking and by some miracle it didn't get too awkward. I was enjoying this a lot - I felt like there was hope left for me - like a Chad. And then, however, it hit me. I remembered what I look like and came back to reality. How brutal it is to know that nothing that I could have said, done or owned would have convinced her to date me or made her fall in love with me... Even if she didn't know that I am depressed and possibly have ADHD, even if she thought I was wealthy enough to throw my money at luxury goods, even if she hadn't pushed me in a wheelchair because I might get a heart attack soon, I still wouldn't have any chance.
This is just so heartbreaking. My mood instantly changed. I still talked to her and I even tried to continue the conversation when we arrived at the hospital, like a total fucking simp, but at this point I simply didn't care if I actually got a heart attack and died right there and then. I also didn't care about what the hospital has to say. I just wanted to go home. But what can I do? I can't just leave now, so I waited for my turn, did the exact same tests they did at the accident hospital, with the exception of them also analyzing my blood, and then waited for my results... for HOURS. I really wanted to go home, yet I had to sit there and wait for them to take care of other patients before coming back to my results.
At around 2 AM, they called me in. So, was this feeling I had in my chest something serious? Regarding my heart? Was it a heart attack that could happen at any minute? No. As it turns out, the weird feeling I had in my chest and the pain I got when breathing in were caused by the fact that I ate way too much before laying down. Not sure how this can happen, I'm not a doctor, but apparently eating way too much and laying down right after can compress your esophagus and lead to what I had. Then I got the usual lecture how being fat is bad and I should lose weight, like I didn't know this already, and was free to go. I ordered a cab, drove to my apartment to pick up the stuff I left there, and then drove home.
In summary, I panicked, embarrassed myself infront of two foids, fucked up my mood in the process of it, and waited for hours just because I ate too much and went to sleep after the fact. Great.
Wow, this is a long story, huh? Was it at least worth it? Probably not.
