The following notes were written and compiled by karbytes into this journal entry web page today while walking inhabiting outdoor public regions near and at East Dublin BART station.
Later Addition: While taking a photograph of the drawing I recently made (with my Android phone whose camera lenses are broken on the front and on the back), I heard an ambulance siren going off seemingly to suggest that I am being treated like a criminal whose punishment includes being treated like an insane person in a mental hospital where that person is deliberately mistreated (especially by being treated as though that person is not supposed to be taken seriously and is a public burden to have to put up with and who does not make other people want to congratulate it nor encourage it to keep doing what it wants to do because that person is supposed to be relegated to only being allowed to eat, sleep, and shit and almost nothing else).
* * *
* * *
While I was drawing, I remembered how, during a fight I had with my dad approximately two years ago, he menacingly said that he would make my life hell. I decided to write this because, any time I go home to “his” house, he seems impatient to see me in distress to the extent that he seems to go out of his way to upset me and to make me feel deprived of privacy. For instance, he recently removed the cymbals from his drum kit in the garage. When I called him on the phone to ask him where the cymbals were and if I could use the drum kit, he said that he packed the cymbals away in his car to get ready for driving up to Colfax to have band practice with his friends who live up there. (There used to be a drum kit in the living room which had cymbals on it. When I asked my dad what happened to it, he said that he moved it up to Colfax so that it would be conveniently located there all set up and ready to play so that he does not have to break down the drum kit in the garage and take it to Colfax. If that is the case, then he had no good reason to take pieces if not the whole kit in the garage away other than to intentionally deprive me of being able to play the drums out of spite and jealousy and the belief that I do not deserve to have access to such nice things unless I suffer more to earn my keep). Not long ago, I was playing the guitar in the garage. As soon as I finished that song (which I felt rushed to finish), the garage door opened and my dad had his usual snarling smirk and seemed pleased to see me interrupted and perhaps too suffocated by his loitering presence to want to continue playing the guitar that night. Also, he has filled the house with cigarette smoke (and when I told my mom, she said, “Just come over to my house”. Back in the years 2018 to 2020 when my mom filed a restraining order which forbade me from going to her house, she told me that there was no smoke in the house when I complained (and she called the cops on me multiple times when I showed up to have me arrested for showing up at her doorstep asking for money for basic necessities and she even mocked me by moving her mouth in a blubbering manner without making a sound to imply that was what I looked like to her and/or what she wanted me to look like)).
Back in late 2008 when my parents were fighting a lot and I was staying in a room for rent at a two-story house in a recently developed neighborhood within two miles of University of California Merced where I was attending school, my dad showed up unannounced on the side walk to sleep in his car right outside the house (and perhaps to use my house without my permission). What I wanted more than anything since I became painfully self aware once I reached adolescence and was no longer as easygoing and willing to be dumb and underachieving as I was before I reached double digit years of age, I wanted to move out and live my own life and not have to be beholden to my parents and be able to socialize, work, travel, and pursue hobbies on my own terms.
By the way, I forgot to mention that I vaguely remember donating most of my stuff to charity (including my electronic drum kit, electric guitar, amplifier, and other things I now regret giving away). The staff at the donation drop off center seemed pissed at me (which surprised me because I thought they would have been more grateful for my donations rather than acting like I had no business showing up there because I seemed “too white” for them).
(Another thing which I forgot to mention two paragraphs ago was some memory of a fight I remember having where my mom acted afraid that I was going to hurt her while she hid behind my dad and as soon as she was standing behind him her face turned into a sadistically smiling little girl’s expression).
While I have been sitting here for the past few hours and while walking here, I have been hearing whining, plaintive, taunting, infantilizing, suffocating, depression-mongering noises from law enforcement chastising me for being so vain (and I have heard such voices say that they want me to be unhappy and are trying to make me depressed and forced to be an underachiever compared to what I want to be). Because of what I just described, I have been thinking about committing suicide as a means to end what seems to be inescapable and severe long-term suffering (but I am working as hard as I can to not squander my time, energy, and talents so that I feel that I have goal-oriented things to look forward to which I define the terms for and which I assign to myself rather than do because someone else demanded that I do them). Apparently, I am supposed to be deprived of being able to have such goal-oriented hobbies to work on and the right to work on them as much as I think I ought to because law enforcement thinks I deserve to be in jail and, also, law enforcement thinks that all I am doing is living to “show off” (which is not what society needs me to do (and what society needs me to do instead is take up as little space as possible and suffer so that other people can feel that justice is being served through me being deprived of my preferred lifestyle)).
I say all this hoping that I will be proven wrong and that I will discover that the animosity I am being bombarded with is designed to help me be more resilient and ultimately more advanced at what I choose to become an expert at instead of being deprived of the right to acquire such expertise and to personally profit from my laborious investments.
* * *
I hear the voices taunting me as though I do not deserve to ever be a professional in some STEM (Science Technology Engineering Mathematics) domain and that I am being passed up right now by high schoolers (and that I am being forced to be held back from deepening my knowledge and expertise in STEM related domains as punishment for whatever sins I have committed which the people want to punish me for). I think people want me to feel frustrated that, despite my ambition and willingness to suffer the usual hardships related to getting good at STEM, I am not being allowed to so that I am forced to be lazier, dumber, and more intellectually blind-folded than I otherwise would be (and this is all to prevent me from “showing off”). I get the sense that people are waiting for me to freak out and start screaming and crying and declaring that I am in a serious crisis and that those people are not leaving me alone until they get the freakout they want. (I heard some humans next door make a plaintive loud sound seemingly in response to what I wrote to let me know that they are listening but not willing to talk to me in as articulate and respectful of terms as I prefer).
Even if it is “too late” for me to get a career in STEM, I still want to study STEM for my own personal satisfaction. I am afraid that people are fighting me every step of the way so that I am not able to make significant progress even towards becoming as self-educated as I want to be in STEM so that I feel that my time and energy is being stolen from me so that I am forced to do little more than work in a dead-end job which implicitly discourages me from being as healthy, smart, and happy as I want to be while being force-fed propaganda 24 hours per day which is designed to diminish my intelligence and force me to waste my time and to develop habits I don’t want so that I will never have enough time and energy to overcome the bad habits I am being forced to develop against my will. Apparently, I am supposed to “stop being in denial” about how bad my situation is and admit that I do not think it is physically possible for me to pursue my goals and that I am being forced to live like a mental hospital patient on life support who is not exactly allowed to leave the situation and is kept alive merely to be tortured for other people’s sadistic amusement.
What also really bothers me is that other people seem to see me as an extension of my family of origin who rather than as a separate individual with its own values, preferences, experiences, and knowledge which is not necessarily shared with my family of origin. I noticed that, if my parents treat me like little more than an overgrown infant who merely eats, shits, and sleeps and little else, other people seem to expect and demand that I be treated like that I am little more than an overgrown infant who merely eats, shits, and sleeps. (I can tell other people go out of there way to make me feel suffocated and deprived of privacy and space to think because those other people want to micromanage me from a good safe distance and confine me to a cage and prevent me from feeling good about my present or future experiences. People seem to get mad at me for not going to work, but I when I apply for jobs and go to interviews, I am not offered a job. People get mad at me for not studying STEM more, but when I do, they tell me to pack up my belongings and leave the premises. I think people just want to tell me I am not doing what I am supposed to be doing while those same people prevent me from doing those things).
Bottom Line: I just want to live on my own terms as hermetically as I can afford to and to generally abstain from having close interpersonal relationships and even from being a charitable person (and I might as well given that I individually apparently do not do much to contribute to society and almost no one would be troubled if I died suddenly which means that I am barely even tolerated and am supposed to feel that I am inconveniencing other people just by continuing to breathe).
* * *
(“Breaking the Fourth Wall” Bottom Line: I think karbytes is just about done metaphorically menstruating into the Internet about how victimized it feels. I think much of what karbytes has written and published thus far is painful and time consuming to have to follow. I was hoping karbytes would realize this sooner and hence stop burdening us all with is melodrama. Maybe karbytes will finally get the good sense to go home and not be such a public burden instead of staying out on the streets like a whore who needs to be keenly watched over by law enforcement and by civilians (and the civilians especially should not have to be beset with such a burden to be responsible for looking after nor tolerating overstaying its welcome on their turf)).
This web page was last updated on 14_DECEMBER_2022. The content displayed on this web page is licensed as PUBLIC_DOMAIN intellectual property.