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[Xantalos]

Younger me would really only be ashamed that I lock myself away, though he and I would generate enough snark to explode the air around us talking to one another.

[MetalSlimeHunt]

Being opposed to any mind altering drug for medical purposes is a bit like being opposed to crutches and wheelchairs.

I'm certain if that crippled person tried really hard they'd be able to walk again.

There's kind of a difference between empirically tested medicine and "go blaze it to fix your fucked up dreams".

But also, depending upon your scenario a crippled person might very well be able to walk again if they were to try hard, such as in the example of severe muscle atrophy or injury.

[Tack]

Being opposed to any mind altering drug for medical purposes is a bit like being opposed to crutches and wheelchairs.

Disagree. I've known people on Xanax and other such drugs, and hate it- feeling that it restricts their freedom.
Whereas crutches and wheelchairs give freedom to those denied it by their injury.

[Gunner-Chan]

I'm on antipsychotics because of my schizophrenia. Given how much of it surfaces off and on despite them I'm pretty sure I'd have absolutely no freedom and be institutionalized if I was off them. .x

[MaximumZero]

Diagnosed clinical depression, although I've been off my meds for quite a while now.

[Shook]

Haven't ever been diagnosed with anything (except borderline depression back when i was really badly stressed), but i'm almost entirely sure that i'm not quite right in the head, for better or worse. This post ended up being far longer than initially expected, so i have plopped it into a spoiler for your convenience.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

I'm comparatively often "distant" from reality, i am almost pathologically bad at keeping and managing schedules on my own, and at the moment i have an unusually strong aversion to things that feel like work and chores. This is particularly nasty when others plan my day ahead of me, so to say, especially if i don't get to have a say in it. I mean, this goes above and beyond the usual "ugh i don't want to do this but okay", it feels REALLY BAD, as if a series of soul-hooks suddenly latch on to my metaphorical essence and pull. I guess i'm just tired of people telling me how to spend my finite time in this life.

I think this might actually have to do with kind of a fear of change, or maybe a fear of new things. I am most comfortable sitting around in known environments with known people doing known things. I get rather anxious when i have to move away from this and into new areas, even when it's something as bloody simple and inconsequential as trying a new game. I hestitate so much, i have such a crippling lack of initiative, that my burning passion for the silly and funny things of this world only ever surfaces in meatspace when i'm around people who i am extremely comfortable around, and even then, only my brother comes close to knowing the full extent of my... Let's call it jolly excentricity. Mom and dad knows i'm a bit of a childish goofball, and my good friends also know that i like to be silly, but i'm still comparatively quiet around them.

While it's no lie that i won't speak if i don't have anything to say, the matter of fact is that i have much more to say than i let on, i'm just too shy and hestitant to let it out. In general, i'm pretty damn scared of revealing new aspects about myself to others. For example, there is NOBODY in my circle of acquaintances in meatspace that know about the story i'm writing, and it's only my brother and good friends who know that i'm making a game as well. The one exception to this trend is my love of doodling things, which my closest relatives and everyone i have on Facebook know about, which includes pretty much all my meatspace friends as well. Making the reveal was a MASSIVE undertaking for me, approximately on the same scale as it might be to others when coming out of the closet to their as of yet unknowing parents. IT WAS THAT HARD. Now, i'm even more shy about my writing, because it's such a radically different mood and setting from my usual stuff and general personality. Hell, some people on the net still don't know about this, and it's much easier for me to share things over the faceless internet.

I feel like it would actually help me feel better about myself if i were to reveal all these things to my parents and such, but... That requires a reveal. A big fucking reveal that says yes, i've been writing more than 100k words on a single dark and somber story, on and off, over the last few years, and yes, i've also been making a game during all this time. It only gets more awkward with time, and it's already extremely awkward. I know i'm not supposed to give a shit, but that's really not easy for me at all. I care, A LOT, about things that shouldn't be cared about.

And yes, there's something deep inside me that's aching, else i wouldn't so easily be thrown into a lengthy ramble. Sometimes i find myself wondering who i even am, and whether one of my two significant sides (happy and jovial versus somber and emotional) is more "me" than the other, because they're damn near polar opposites. I KNOW that "me" encompasses both these sides, but... Sometimes i just don't believe it fully, as if i have to choose between one of these two sides, because i don't like being as unstable as i am. Problem is, i can't really find stability within myself. If i can't even depend on MYSELF to do things that i actually want, then what the hell am i supposed to do?

To be honest, however, this is all written while i'm tired and somewhat sleep deprived, which tends to get me a bit depressive. Take it for what you will, but the fact that there is so much to ramble about in a fit of sleep deprivation-induced moodiness tells something. I should probably see a psychologist at some point. (also worth noting: the amount of smileys i use is directly proportional to how happy and silly i feel at the time)

[Darvi]

Been diagnosed with not-ADHD and, apparently, not-autism. Still have dozens of tics and massive coulrophobia, though.

[Fniff]

Haven't ever been diagnosed with anything (except borderline depression back when i was really badly stressed), but i'm almost entirely sure that i'm not quite right in the head, for better or worse. This post ended up being far longer than initially expected, so i have plopped it into a spoiler for your convenience.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

I'm comparatively often "distant" from reality, i am almost pathologically bad at keeping and managing schedules on my own, and at the moment i have an unusually strong aversion to things that feel like work and chores. This is particularly nasty when others plan my day ahead of me, so to say, especially if i don't get to have a say in it. I mean, this goes above and beyond the usual "ugh i don't want to do this but okay", it feels REALLY BAD, as if a series of soul-hooks suddenly latch on to my metaphorical essence and pull. I guess i'm just tired of people telling me how to spend my finite time in this life.

I think this might actually have to do with kind of a fear of change, or maybe a fear of new things. I am most comfortable sitting around in known environments with known people doing known things. I get rather anxious when i have to move away from this and into new areas, even when it's something as bloody simple and inconsequential as trying a new game. I hestitate so much, i have such a crippling lack of initiative, that my burning passion for the silly and funny things of this world only ever surfaces in meatspace when i'm around people who i am extremely comfortable around, and even then, only my brother comes close to knowing the full extent of my... Let's call it jolly excentricity. Mom and dad knows i'm a bit of a childish goofball, and my good friends also know that i like to be silly, but i'm still comparatively quiet around them.

While it's no lie that i won't speak if i don't have anything to say, the matter of fact is that i have much more to say than i let on, i'm just too shy and hestitant to let it out. In general, i'm pretty damn scared of revealing new aspects about myself to others. For example, there is NOBODY in my circle of acquaintances in meatspace that know about the story i'm writing, and it's only my brother and good friends who know that i'm making a game as well. The one exception to this trend is my love of doodling things, which my closest relatives and everyone i have on Facebook know about, which includes pretty much all my meatspace friends as well. Making the reveal was a MASSIVE undertaking for me, approximately on the same scale as it might be to others when coming out of the closet to their as of yet unknowing parents. IT WAS THAT HARD. Now, i'm even more shy about my writing, because it's such a radically different mood and setting from my usual stuff and general personality. Hell, some people on the net still don't know about this, and it's much easier for me to share things over the faceless internet.

I feel like it would actually help me feel better about myself if i were to reveal all these things to my parents and such, but... That requires a reveal. A big fucking reveal that says yes, i've been writing more than 100k words on a single dark and somber story, on and off, over the last few years, and yes, i've also been making a game during all this time. It only gets more awkward with time, and it's already extremely awkward. I know i'm not supposed to give a shit, but that's really not easy for me at all. I care, A LOT, about things that shouldn't be cared about.

And yes, there's something deep inside me that's aching, else i wouldn't so easily be thrown into a lengthy ramble. Sometimes i find myself wondering who i even am, and whether one of my two significant sides (happy and jovial versus somber and emotional) is more "me" than the other, because they're damn near polar opposites. I KNOW that "me" encompasses both these sides, but... Sometimes i just don't believe it fully, as if i have to choose between one of these two sides, because i don't like being as unstable as i am. Problem is, i can't really find stability within myself. If i can't even depend on MYSELF to do things that i actually want, then what the hell am i supposed to do?

To be honest, however, this is all written while i'm tired and somewhat sleep deprived, which tends to get me a bit depressive. Take it for what you will, but the fact that there is so much to ramble about in a fit of sleep deprivation-induced moodiness tells something. I should probably see a psychologist at some point. (also worth noting: the amount of smileys i use is directly proportional to how happy and silly i feel at the time)

I write horribly dark and depressing stories all the time, and generally really only go for dark and depressing stories because that's how my imagination tends to operate. I've shown my parents my stories and while they have noted it is quite dark, they still like them. It's actually harder to get the faceless internet to like your stuff then it is to get your parents to like it. Personally I like the concept of a muse, the mythological version that is. A spirit that gives you ideas means that it isn't a "darker you" that's giving you the stories but merely a third party. You'll find a lot of writers actually express sadness at some of the things that happen in their stories, like a character dying, but most do not mention deciding not to write it in. I imagine this is due to the excuse of "This isn't me, it's my muse, I just write the thing". It really isn't you in this situation. Dark and disturbing shit just sort of happens in your brain. I bet even the most cheery person has had one or two seriously bone-chillingly horrible ideas.

[Xantalos]

Indeed.
Speaking of dark stories I recently got hit by a case of MyLungs AreFuckingThemselvesitis so I'm home bound for the day and am working on that age of fire thing.

[Angel Of Death]

I got diagnosed with PTSD about 6 years ago. I used to have pretty bad agoraphobia, but it is almost completely gone nowadays.

[Shook]

I write horribly dark and depressing stories all the time, and generally really only go for dark and depressing stories because that's how my imagination tends to operate. I've shown my parents my stories and while they have noted it is quite dark, they still like them. It's actually harder to get the faceless internet to like your stuff then it is to get your parents to like it. Personally I like the concept of a muse, the mythological version that is. A spirit that gives you ideas means that it isn't a "darker you" that's giving you the stories but merely a third party. You'll find a lot of writers actually express sadness at some of the things that happen in their stories, like a character dying, but most do not mention deciding not to write it in. I imagine this is due to the excuse of "This isn't me, it's my muse, I just write the thing". It really isn't you in this situation. Dark and disturbing shit just sort of happens in your brain. I bet even the most cheery person has had one or two seriously bone-chillingly horrible ideas.

It may be harder to get the internet to like things, but it's much, MUCH harder for me to even try to show such things to my parents, due to my aforementioned fear of revealing new aspects about myself. The idea of a muse is actually pretty neat, since it would provide reasonable explanation as to why a guy like me writes such an exceptionally serious story, especially given how i don't actually enjoy being serious. It would also explain why i sometimes feel like drawing something scary and dark as opposed to my usual silly stuff. There is, however, still the awkward situation of explaining why i wrote it all in English, since i'm native Danish. Broader audience, perhaps?

Also, visual example of exactly how much my mood varies: attempted scary and dark (a long time ago) versus silly stuff. Then there's also the one time where my attempt at drawing something scary went horribly right, and i couldn't finish it because my asshole of a muse kept flashing the finished image in front of my inner eye, which was fucking scary. That's probably the only time i've managed to produce an image that legitimately scares myself, even in its unfinished state. Terror seal? No sweat, played for comedy. The only other thing that gets close to scaring me is this one panel from one of my comics where a stickdude is clawing his eyes out, but it's not bad enough that i couldn't finish it and play it for laughs anyways. I seem to have a fairly specific phobia of gaping empty/black eye sockets, eh?

In retrospect though, i usually only feel like this when i'm sleep deprived, so it would appear that that fucks with my mood quite a bit. There was also this one time where i nearly went full-blown identity crisis, which was narrowly averted, but i'm still wondering a bit from time to time. So, i shall get some sleep, and hope that i feel better about everything tomorrow.

[Fniff]

I notice that when you go for something scary, you use a splash of color in an otherwise black/white world. The only time I managed to scare myself was when I wrote about a large spider in Chernobyl. I'm arachnophobic so I kept thinking about the large spider possibly under my desk that was about to eat me oh god i can see it its coming out ohshit

Anyway, I actually find I tend to come up with pretty good if seriously odd ideas when I'm sleepy. I am relatively happy during it if prone to imagining that creepypasta entities are watching me in the darkness while I am sleeping in my bed. Or worse, when I'm browsing the net in my computer room which has a huge patio door pointing out into total darkness at night right behind me.

[Xantalos]

Herpanotsupposedtobewritten

[4maskwolf]

I've actually been told a few times that I have a severe lack of empathy, on the basis that I have extreme difficulty's showing emotion outwardly.

I don't understand how one is supposed to imply the other.

This. It is difficult to impossible for me to display emotions outwardly. Or even in words.

Also depression and ADHD. And difficulty trusting others. And general distaste of talking about myself at all, focusing entirely on the person I am talking to.

[Itnetlolor]

Anatidaeophobia. Those ducks man... Somehow, they find a way to watch you.