Inaugural post
What a crazy moment when I decided to open this! I'm feeling so shity. I promised myself I was going to write without hitting the backspace key. I'm not doing it, but I'm trying. Be warned, as the description of the blog says, to find nothing but babbling, and worse.. in bad english. You have been warned!
Anyway, I'm writing, I think I would read something like this, I like to read about depressed people, not to feel myself better but to know there are more people like this shit I am. You have been warned, do you want to leave now? Go ahead, be my guest. One of the worst defects I have is to always try to make a good impression on people. I want to see if I can be more sincere here. I want to know if writing, or babbling, or whatever, helps me. I don't even know if I will write again, but heck, here it goes.
Well, to say something about me, I'm a thirty something years old male, still a graduate student in a relatively good university, people say, but in the probably worst town of this damn country (hey fbi, are you reading every ip packet that goes by? you have the date, the ip, ask the provider, you can identify everyone, fear rules this country...) Ok, I even hate this university, everything that surrounds it. Forgot to say that I'm depressed, at least autodiagnosed, since I haven't had the courage to see a doctor . People say that I'm not dumb, but from long time ago I cannot work, my reasoning slips, like when you hit the gas in the car but some malfunctioning makes it move slowly, you hit harder and it moves a bit faster but still way out of what it should...
And here I am, writing this, trying to empty myself, instead of working, I have the paper in front of me but I can't. Procrastination they call it, but in my case I think there are deeper causes, which I can't find, fuck! Ok, now I'm not hitting backspace, there you have it, even in this (semi)anonymous media I'm feeling afraid of hurting feelings. Feelings of who? Of you, reader! How fucked I am!
Ok, I'm going to post this without rereading. I'm sure tomorrow it will look to me like a stupidity, but anyway... I can delete it tomorrow. Oh, mighty google, would you index this for the benefit of some poor soul, similar to me, who likes to read about the misfortunes of others...
Anyway, I'm writing, I think I would read something like this, I like to read about depressed people, not to feel myself better but to know there are more people like this shit I am. You have been warned, do you want to leave now? Go ahead, be my guest. One of the worst defects I have is to always try to make a good impression on people. I want to see if I can be more sincere here. I want to know if writing, or babbling, or whatever, helps me. I don't even know if I will write again, but heck, here it goes.
Well, to say something about me, I'm a thirty something years old male, still a graduate student in a relatively good university, people say, but in the probably worst town of this damn country (hey fbi, are you reading every ip packet that goes by? you have the date, the ip, ask the provider, you can identify everyone, fear rules this country...) Ok, I even hate this university, everything that surrounds it. Forgot to say that I'm depressed, at least autodiagnosed, since I haven't had the courage to see a doctor . People say that I'm not dumb, but from long time ago I cannot work, my reasoning slips, like when you hit the gas in the car but some malfunctioning makes it move slowly, you hit harder and it moves a bit faster but still way out of what it should...
And here I am, writing this, trying to empty myself, instead of working, I have the paper in front of me but I can't. Procrastination they call it, but in my case I think there are deeper causes, which I can't find, fuck! Ok, now I'm not hitting backspace, there you have it, even in this (semi)anonymous media I'm feeling afraid of hurting feelings. Feelings of who? Of you, reader! How fucked I am!
Ok, I'm going to post this without rereading. I'm sure tomorrow it will look to me like a stupidity, but anyway... I can delete it tomorrow. Oh, mighty google, would you index this for the benefit of some poor soul, similar to me, who likes to read about the misfortunes of others...
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