MechanicalMishka
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- Jul 31, 2011
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Hi friends.
I'm the http://www.alonelylife.com/showthread.php?tid=15899 guy.
It's a blank silent night here, I was finally able to drag my tattered self out of crushing despair into apathetic inert 'i don't give a ****' state. Having a feeling that it's just a perfect time to give you guys some laugh, some thinking material. If you're under light sadness or dark maddening depression which makes you cry out loud for short-term relief it may be a refreshing read, or maybe even you're in for a special treat like a drop of red wine mixed with a trail of salty tear shimmering dimly on your woman's lips. I don't know, some people may like the way I express myself, some think I'm weird, ignorant, outright stupid. Most of the time people don't pay tiny bit of attention to me, I go through life unnoticed, like I'm cursed, only shattered souls, hollow and cold from the pain are attracted to me.
Consider me dumb, consider me stuck-up, I'm not gonna lie, it would be so wrong to lie to you, lonesome strangers. So yeah I'm gonna care a little about how my post is recieved, but only because of social phobias and perhaps because I feel like I care about you. Right now is the best time to talk to you, to just let it go and hear something back. If my story is too tl;dr to your liking, if you feel you're intimidated or annoyed, please don't bother and go away. Come back in the right mood. And here I am, after a month of being completely alone, after two days long insomnia, Metallica in my headphones, a smile on my face, a slight sense of madness is present. So here we go.
My apologies if my story is explicit. Don't read if you're too sensitive or a minor, please. Oh well, at least a mod will read through in any case.
When in school I was the most social person you'd ever meet. Had lots of temporary false 'friends' a few of true ones and one who was like a brother to me. We thought alike, spoke alike and liked same girls. He was physically attractive, me - not so much or so I thought at the time. I grew up fatherless, you see, I lived with mother, sister, grandmother and niece. Women being all around me, I did not develop homosexual traits though I've tried gay sex out of curiosity. I do not believe you are born homosexual and that's it. It's possible to become one if you're young and given a chance to. Fortunately I was spared of the fate of being gay in Soviet Russia. As a teen I resented homosexuals, hated and despised them covering gaping tears in my own sexual insecurity. Now when my mind is clear and I'm a man I feel indifferent to them like I am to other people. It's just their sex preference, they sleep with neither child nor animal, a sane independent human, who may be cruel or caring, cold or passionate, loyal or treacherous. They feel love, jealosy, affection or hate. So I wasn't in any way attracted to men but I was growing up all emotional like a girl, I believed that my nose is extra huge and misplaced, had a feeling that I'm imperfect, like most teen females had. I never had sex with a woman before 19. I desired it greatly, sought it, lusted it. While my best friend had all the female attention he could possibly handle only for his looks. We were almost the same except looks, same clothes, habbits, knowledge, we were even born the same year and month. Had I known that that my facial appearance wasn't ugly, that it had it's own attractive features then things would have been different. I had a few chances of having sex but I was always drunk because I was afraid, silly me. Never had satisfying results. With a drunk girl on the back seat of a deserted car, with a drunk older girl on the bench outside her house at night, with a sober girl in her home which resulted in nothing as I was sober too and horrified, rejected her to defend and keep my fears. Social anxiety appeared. I wore a mask, cheerful and pleasant on the outside, wary, self-concious and doubful behind it's cover. But that's not the reason of me becoming a shut-in.
My sister's husband hanged himself in 90's, I was 9 at the time, me and my mom discovered the body. My sister died year later at the age of 28, someone smashed her head in, she only left coma to say goodbye to my mom, I was present at the moment. My niece with whom I grew up together was taken away by her father's relatives along with all of my sister's property, not a single nail was left in the wall. My mother was in grief and let all that happen. My grandmother who was 82 died the same year, painfully, in her bed, first losing the ability of speech, then hearing and sight. My mom has taken a punch in the mouth and persevered. Me, I was a kid. She said I slept for only few hours a night, could not sleep for two days straight. Never smiled, never played with others, talked to myself or imaginary person. I don't recall such details, I just remember tinkering with my toys, walking around my room while daydreaming, reading Bible which is strange as I'm definitely not a religious person.
Now. Later when I was older my lost father found me, bought me a beer and took me to his home. He was living completely alone, bald, fat, broken. He told me stories about my mom, showed me their love letters and black-and-white photos. Said he loved me. I said nothing to him as I felt nothing. He died the same year and I wasn't present when they buried him. Haven't visited his grave still. Nothing to see there, nothing to think about, nothing to say or to remember.
My niece found her way back home, I call her 'sis'. She was abused by her new 'stepfater', a cop, who beat her, and I think he attempted sexual assault on her at least once. She lived till 15 sharing her room with a crazy ancient hag, that ***** was completely mad and they were hiding her from authorities out of 'pity'. She talked only in gibberish, threw own honeysuckle across the room, was running away ocasionally bending iron bars of the fence with her bare hands. She lost a son to suicide, my niece's father, she took a punch in the mouth as well but had not enough willpower to endure. I remember her being sane, she had a tidy nice house and delicious tiny pancakes.
My sis is a junkie. So painfully light and thin you can see her fingerbones. She's tried everything except IV use of drugs, though I'm not so sure about it now. Won't be long before she destroys herself suddenly and completely in a matter of months. She expresses fascination towards opiates. The funniest part is, no one can do anything about it, she justifies her addiction so deftly that it makes you want to quietly leave her and cry bitterly realising how fruitless are your efforts. Lives with my mother, but is always on the move, with friends. They call themselves psychonauts I think, kids of rich parents, they consider themselves spiritual and enlightened and can be so clueless and naive and yet so manipulative and inventive when it comes to getting a desired dose of drug, seeking out new hallucination-triggering chemicals.
Haven't seen my little sis for six months already.
All of this together made me a shut-in but I don't know for sure. I was completely normal for a while after school, lost old friends, found new, had sex, parties, fullest social life, successfully avoided army draft as it is a terrible thing in third world countries. I don't remember how I got here, memories are strangely escaping me in a blur now that I try to recall. Depression, apathy, no emotions. Dropped out of two universities, friends slowly stopped visiting, their faces faded away, had frequent nightmares. Started playing an MMO rpg, got attached to it as the only source of satysfying social needs. My thoughts at the time - I will kill myself the moment my life becomes unbearable, made nessesary arrangements, prepared myself mentally. The thoughts were hopeless, I believed my life was in ruins, I was spent, empty and had no desire to make an effort to become 'successful'. Death was more appealing.
Then she happened. Yeah, just at the right time, suddenly, a girl of my age and mind. A cold hollow soul, a tortured life, arms cut so deep the scars were protruding pale and wide, cigarette burn marks on her left hand and neck. She was truly beautiful. Her soul knew sorrow no man can comprehend, her body had history, yet so young like a schoolgirl's. It's not my place to share her life details. I'll just mention group rape, pedophilia victim, divorce, stillborn. She was twitching in her sleep, scratching her legs until bleeding, sometimes she threw her legs up in the air while sleeping too. Met her ingame, after playing together for a year or half she said she loves me. I did not reject her. She bought a plane ticket and was at my doorstep before I could react or doubt our decision. I started loving her back. Emotions came back to me. I thought she was special, I was consumed. Got a good job, did translations from English in my spare time, quit playing games. I was earning enough money for us both to leave country once every couple of months, because it was nessesary for her to stay here legally. I became bold and tough enough when needed despite my skinny frame, sometimes you've got stand up for yourself and your family because law and public order won't protect you. So I became a confident man she needed. We were leaving for countries of Middle Asia, as it was cheaper and easier and also didn't require a visa.
We got careless, she got pregnant, we decided to give it a try. She gave birth to a baby girl that died after a few breaths. She was so frail, my little girl, my little Mishka, she had so many health problems, she was unable to give birth to a child at the time. I persevered, she bled inside all over again. I won't speak about it any more, this is just too much even for me now. I clawed onto my sanity, I did my best efforts to endure, to crawl through the darkness. I managed to recover, for my love, for her love I survived, she was with me despite all odds, we still had a chance. I took a dog home some time after, a cute adorable puppy, it cheered my baby up. Then Human started to act like naughty puppies usualy do. Chewing internet cable, furniture, even walls, leaving poo wherever he finds it appropriate. She did not like it. He had a dog toilet she said, he had toys to gnaw on she said. She wished for me to make him dissappear. She wished something we both took into our care not to be. I made a connection between him and our love. Out of spite I broke his neck or I thought so. He made a sound only humans are capable of. He cried with immence horror of death, innocent being slaughtered by a monster, a cry full of fear, pain, inevitable death, hope and love for me. Something snapped inside of me but I didn't falter, I cried out loud too, like a beast. It frightened me, I felt I was striken insane, would never be the same, like something irreversible had happened to me, I wanted to let him go but feared he will just suffer some more and die anyway. She stormed in the room crying, kicked me in the head. I had relaxed my grip and we both were holding him. His eyes were moving, we listened to his breath and heart then he slowly walked away. He fully recovered within days which seemed like a miracle to me, like Mr. Jesus himself decided that extreme guilt is too much for me to handle. I expressed this thought to her and she replied that I am not a real man like I led her to believe, I claimed to kill for her, I claimed to kill her if she cheated on me, but I cannot even kill an animal. She said if she would've slept with lowest disgusting people, I'd forgive her and let her into my life again out of fear that I won't see her ever again and deep inside to my surprise I felt she speaks true. She said she doesn't love me. As she saw my blodshot eyes, my grinding teeth she realised that she had crossed my limit mark, she knew I'm suicidal and she said she's very 'sorry', she said she does not need my life, she wants to be left alone. I gave Human away to people who will surely love him better along with all his things, I wouldn't be able to look at him and stay mentally intact, he's all right now, happy, though maybe scarred as are we all. Then she took a plane to her birthplace town to die she said. In a very special place to her, didn't tell me where is this place. Haven't heard from her ever since.
The sad part is that I wasn't able to kill myself after all this. I used alcohol, got too emotional, hit a wall, broke my fist. I used marijuanna - it turned into a psychotic slow nightmare. Now I'm a bit better, though at times I'm going mad which is extremely frightening feeling when mind clears up for a moment. She simply took away cogs and gears that kept Mechanical Mishka's sanity functional. And after 23 years of life, nothing is gained, only exhausting loneliness, much have been experienced, except being a loving father and feeling of seconds-away incoming certain death.
Now is your turn. Tell me about your depression and loneliness, I dare you.
Or your thoughts about my life.
How do you fix something as broken as it is?
Do you feel the need to harass me about violence towards animals?
Will this be allowed to stay here and be read through for some time at least?
Do you not believe me? You may consider all this fictional, if it rids me of questioning the plausibility of my life. I just want some reaction.
And in case you're wondering Mishka means an adorable baby bear, we used this word to adress each other as we both did not like our given names. Now it's just a construct of sounds and letters bringing painful memories whenever I may read or hear it.
A story once promised now told. I'm alive enough to want a cup of tea, expecting to read some insights once I'm back, hopefully.
I'm the http://www.alonelylife.com/showthread.php?tid=15899 guy.
It's a blank silent night here, I was finally able to drag my tattered self out of crushing despair into apathetic inert 'i don't give a ****' state. Having a feeling that it's just a perfect time to give you guys some laugh, some thinking material. If you're under light sadness or dark maddening depression which makes you cry out loud for short-term relief it may be a refreshing read, or maybe even you're in for a special treat like a drop of red wine mixed with a trail of salty tear shimmering dimly on your woman's lips. I don't know, some people may like the way I express myself, some think I'm weird, ignorant, outright stupid. Most of the time people don't pay tiny bit of attention to me, I go through life unnoticed, like I'm cursed, only shattered souls, hollow and cold from the pain are attracted to me.
Consider me dumb, consider me stuck-up, I'm not gonna lie, it would be so wrong to lie to you, lonesome strangers. So yeah I'm gonna care a little about how my post is recieved, but only because of social phobias and perhaps because I feel like I care about you. Right now is the best time to talk to you, to just let it go and hear something back. If my story is too tl;dr to your liking, if you feel you're intimidated or annoyed, please don't bother and go away. Come back in the right mood. And here I am, after a month of being completely alone, after two days long insomnia, Metallica in my headphones, a smile on my face, a slight sense of madness is present. So here we go.
My apologies if my story is explicit. Don't read if you're too sensitive or a minor, please. Oh well, at least a mod will read through in any case.
When in school I was the most social person you'd ever meet. Had lots of temporary false 'friends' a few of true ones and one who was like a brother to me. We thought alike, spoke alike and liked same girls. He was physically attractive, me - not so much or so I thought at the time. I grew up fatherless, you see, I lived with mother, sister, grandmother and niece. Women being all around me, I did not develop homosexual traits though I've tried gay sex out of curiosity. I do not believe you are born homosexual and that's it. It's possible to become one if you're young and given a chance to. Fortunately I was spared of the fate of being gay in Soviet Russia. As a teen I resented homosexuals, hated and despised them covering gaping tears in my own sexual insecurity. Now when my mind is clear and I'm a man I feel indifferent to them like I am to other people. It's just their sex preference, they sleep with neither child nor animal, a sane independent human, who may be cruel or caring, cold or passionate, loyal or treacherous. They feel love, jealosy, affection or hate. So I wasn't in any way attracted to men but I was growing up all emotional like a girl, I believed that my nose is extra huge and misplaced, had a feeling that I'm imperfect, like most teen females had. I never had sex with a woman before 19. I desired it greatly, sought it, lusted it. While my best friend had all the female attention he could possibly handle only for his looks. We were almost the same except looks, same clothes, habbits, knowledge, we were even born the same year and month. Had I known that that my facial appearance wasn't ugly, that it had it's own attractive features then things would have been different. I had a few chances of having sex but I was always drunk because I was afraid, silly me. Never had satisfying results. With a drunk girl on the back seat of a deserted car, with a drunk older girl on the bench outside her house at night, with a sober girl in her home which resulted in nothing as I was sober too and horrified, rejected her to defend and keep my fears. Social anxiety appeared. I wore a mask, cheerful and pleasant on the outside, wary, self-concious and doubful behind it's cover. But that's not the reason of me becoming a shut-in.
My sister's husband hanged himself in 90's, I was 9 at the time, me and my mom discovered the body. My sister died year later at the age of 28, someone smashed her head in, she only left coma to say goodbye to my mom, I was present at the moment. My niece with whom I grew up together was taken away by her father's relatives along with all of my sister's property, not a single nail was left in the wall. My mother was in grief and let all that happen. My grandmother who was 82 died the same year, painfully, in her bed, first losing the ability of speech, then hearing and sight. My mom has taken a punch in the mouth and persevered. Me, I was a kid. She said I slept for only few hours a night, could not sleep for two days straight. Never smiled, never played with others, talked to myself or imaginary person. I don't recall such details, I just remember tinkering with my toys, walking around my room while daydreaming, reading Bible which is strange as I'm definitely not a religious person.
Now. Later when I was older my lost father found me, bought me a beer and took me to his home. He was living completely alone, bald, fat, broken. He told me stories about my mom, showed me their love letters and black-and-white photos. Said he loved me. I said nothing to him as I felt nothing. He died the same year and I wasn't present when they buried him. Haven't visited his grave still. Nothing to see there, nothing to think about, nothing to say or to remember.
My niece found her way back home, I call her 'sis'. She was abused by her new 'stepfater', a cop, who beat her, and I think he attempted sexual assault on her at least once. She lived till 15 sharing her room with a crazy ancient hag, that ***** was completely mad and they were hiding her from authorities out of 'pity'. She talked only in gibberish, threw own honeysuckle across the room, was running away ocasionally bending iron bars of the fence with her bare hands. She lost a son to suicide, my niece's father, she took a punch in the mouth as well but had not enough willpower to endure. I remember her being sane, she had a tidy nice house and delicious tiny pancakes.
My sis is a junkie. So painfully light and thin you can see her fingerbones. She's tried everything except IV use of drugs, though I'm not so sure about it now. Won't be long before she destroys herself suddenly and completely in a matter of months. She expresses fascination towards opiates. The funniest part is, no one can do anything about it, she justifies her addiction so deftly that it makes you want to quietly leave her and cry bitterly realising how fruitless are your efforts. Lives with my mother, but is always on the move, with friends. They call themselves psychonauts I think, kids of rich parents, they consider themselves spiritual and enlightened and can be so clueless and naive and yet so manipulative and inventive when it comes to getting a desired dose of drug, seeking out new hallucination-triggering chemicals.
Haven't seen my little sis for six months already.
All of this together made me a shut-in but I don't know for sure. I was completely normal for a while after school, lost old friends, found new, had sex, parties, fullest social life, successfully avoided army draft as it is a terrible thing in third world countries. I don't remember how I got here, memories are strangely escaping me in a blur now that I try to recall. Depression, apathy, no emotions. Dropped out of two universities, friends slowly stopped visiting, their faces faded away, had frequent nightmares. Started playing an MMO rpg, got attached to it as the only source of satysfying social needs. My thoughts at the time - I will kill myself the moment my life becomes unbearable, made nessesary arrangements, prepared myself mentally. The thoughts were hopeless, I believed my life was in ruins, I was spent, empty and had no desire to make an effort to become 'successful'. Death was more appealing.
Then she happened. Yeah, just at the right time, suddenly, a girl of my age and mind. A cold hollow soul, a tortured life, arms cut so deep the scars were protruding pale and wide, cigarette burn marks on her left hand and neck. She was truly beautiful. Her soul knew sorrow no man can comprehend, her body had history, yet so young like a schoolgirl's. It's not my place to share her life details. I'll just mention group rape, pedophilia victim, divorce, stillborn. She was twitching in her sleep, scratching her legs until bleeding, sometimes she threw her legs up in the air while sleeping too. Met her ingame, after playing together for a year or half she said she loves me. I did not reject her. She bought a plane ticket and was at my doorstep before I could react or doubt our decision. I started loving her back. Emotions came back to me. I thought she was special, I was consumed. Got a good job, did translations from English in my spare time, quit playing games. I was earning enough money for us both to leave country once every couple of months, because it was nessesary for her to stay here legally. I became bold and tough enough when needed despite my skinny frame, sometimes you've got stand up for yourself and your family because law and public order won't protect you. So I became a confident man she needed. We were leaving for countries of Middle Asia, as it was cheaper and easier and also didn't require a visa.
We got careless, she got pregnant, we decided to give it a try. She gave birth to a baby girl that died after a few breaths. She was so frail, my little girl, my little Mishka, she had so many health problems, she was unable to give birth to a child at the time. I persevered, she bled inside all over again. I won't speak about it any more, this is just too much even for me now. I clawed onto my sanity, I did my best efforts to endure, to crawl through the darkness. I managed to recover, for my love, for her love I survived, she was with me despite all odds, we still had a chance. I took a dog home some time after, a cute adorable puppy, it cheered my baby up. Then Human started to act like naughty puppies usualy do. Chewing internet cable, furniture, even walls, leaving poo wherever he finds it appropriate. She did not like it. He had a dog toilet she said, he had toys to gnaw on she said. She wished for me to make him dissappear. She wished something we both took into our care not to be. I made a connection between him and our love. Out of spite I broke his neck or I thought so. He made a sound only humans are capable of. He cried with immence horror of death, innocent being slaughtered by a monster, a cry full of fear, pain, inevitable death, hope and love for me. Something snapped inside of me but I didn't falter, I cried out loud too, like a beast. It frightened me, I felt I was striken insane, would never be the same, like something irreversible had happened to me, I wanted to let him go but feared he will just suffer some more and die anyway. She stormed in the room crying, kicked me in the head. I had relaxed my grip and we both were holding him. His eyes were moving, we listened to his breath and heart then he slowly walked away. He fully recovered within days which seemed like a miracle to me, like Mr. Jesus himself decided that extreme guilt is too much for me to handle. I expressed this thought to her and she replied that I am not a real man like I led her to believe, I claimed to kill for her, I claimed to kill her if she cheated on me, but I cannot even kill an animal. She said if she would've slept with lowest disgusting people, I'd forgive her and let her into my life again out of fear that I won't see her ever again and deep inside to my surprise I felt she speaks true. She said she doesn't love me. As she saw my blodshot eyes, my grinding teeth she realised that she had crossed my limit mark, she knew I'm suicidal and she said she's very 'sorry', she said she does not need my life, she wants to be left alone. I gave Human away to people who will surely love him better along with all his things, I wouldn't be able to look at him and stay mentally intact, he's all right now, happy, though maybe scarred as are we all. Then she took a plane to her birthplace town to die she said. In a very special place to her, didn't tell me where is this place. Haven't heard from her ever since.
The sad part is that I wasn't able to kill myself after all this. I used alcohol, got too emotional, hit a wall, broke my fist. I used marijuanna - it turned into a psychotic slow nightmare. Now I'm a bit better, though at times I'm going mad which is extremely frightening feeling when mind clears up for a moment. She simply took away cogs and gears that kept Mechanical Mishka's sanity functional. And after 23 years of life, nothing is gained, only exhausting loneliness, much have been experienced, except being a loving father and feeling of seconds-away incoming certain death.
Now is your turn. Tell me about your depression and loneliness, I dare you.
Or your thoughts about my life.
How do you fix something as broken as it is?
Do you feel the need to harass me about violence towards animals?
Will this be allowed to stay here and be read through for some time at least?
Do you not believe me? You may consider all this fictional, if it rids me of questioning the plausibility of my life. I just want some reaction.
And in case you're wondering Mishka means an adorable baby bear, we used this word to adress each other as we both did not like our given names. Now it's just a construct of sounds and letters bringing painful memories whenever I may read or hear it.
A story once promised now told. I'm alive enough to want a cup of tea, expecting to read some insights once I'm back, hopefully.
