What's it like to carry years of built-up rage and sorrow inside, yet feel completely numb on the surface? It's a glitch where a wave of emotional garbage hits you, but all you actually register are the physical symptoms: throat tightness, muscle spasms, and a sensation like literal fire burning through your guts. You cry, but it feels like you're just watching yourself cry from a distance. Seconds later, a complete flatline hits - zero emotions, and your brain completely wipes the event so you don't feel like a weakling.
My family had massive expectations for me: world-class artist, vet, famous actor. Instead, I'm sitting in front of a camera in a basement, looking like a total mess online. But nobody wants to address the diagnosed DID beneath it all, or the history behind it. Years ago, a doctor gave me a piece of "golden advice": Next time you get a rage attack, don't lunge at anyone - just smash a mug. So one night, fed up with the domestic hell at home, I smashed a mug. The domino effect? I ended up locked in a psych ward that exact same night.
Survival in the ward, getting escorted out of trade school by cops and an ambulance, taking math classes on a psychiatric floor, and playing the "good behavior" game just to get released - none of this was done for sport. It was a raw struggle to stay alive in an environment where a supposedly "safe" home was actually more dangerous than hospital restraints.
This is part one of the story. No cheap drama, no sugarcoating - just an unfiltered log of how fast society and your own roots can write you off. But real talk: you're not alone in the chaos, and fighting for yourself is always worth it before you completely go offline.
Stay scene, stay weird... and fr, watch out for "golden advice"! 🖤🏥
