For the life of me, I can’t think of ONE good memory that’s been established by the outside world and I’m not even digitally committed, I’m all analog and genuinely despise modern technology. I much rather spend my time in the quote on fucking quote “real life” instead of trying to seek some sort of fucking dire and desperate ephemeral bliss in a hobby through which detachment from reality is inevitably tranquilizing.
And the more I think about all of this, the more I realize that the greatest memories in life are those established with other people. And on account of being ugly and genetic dead, I’ve never had those “other people.” I’ve never had genuine friends who cared about me, and neither am I any longer willing to wait around and find one.
When Billie Jean started playing on my PS2. The moment Minecraft clicked in my 12-year-old brain like ten years ago. The second I got out of Helgen and witnessed a dragon flying away before my eyes. And that time I entered Greenpath and the music started playing.
Those are the few times I remember being truly happy. Outside of that, it was all sorrow.
And the more I think about all of this, the more I realize that the greatest memories in life are those established with other people. And on account of being ugly and genetic dead, I’ve never had those “other people.” I’ve never had genuine friends who cared about me, and neither am I any longer willing to wait around and find one.
When Billie Jean started playing on my PS2. The moment Minecraft clicked in my 12-year-old brain like ten years ago. The second I got out of Helgen and witnessed a dragon flying away before my eyes. And that time I entered Greenpath and the music started playing.
Those are the few times I remember being truly happy. Outside of that, it was all sorrow.
