#hydesdm

Hey guys, I know I haven’t done anything on here much lately, but after watching @projared‘s play-through of DDLC, I had my own...epiphany, shall we say to quote Monika...and I feel like I really need to share this with you all; because the longer you hold something inside of you, the more it poisons your life, and I need to purge some of that poison out of my system.  (also spoilers, I guess)

This isn’t the point, but it’s a build-up to it, so please bear with me so I can give some backstory to all of this: I used to be suicidal .  I started having very dark and disturbing thoughts when I was around 10, and it was mostly from this one place that I used to go to for after-school programs: Colonial Sports.  Now, I don’t know how it is like there nowadays, as it’s been over 6 years since I was last there, but to me that place was Hell on Earth.  Every day there was someone..some group, who would bully me in some new way or another: name-calling, isolating, taunting, using me, framing me--pretty much the only thing that didn’t happen was getting curb-stomped or attacked with a weapon (unless you wanna count a rubber dodge-ball as a weapon, then I was at point-blank range, which I probably deserved if I remembered why).

At first, when I went to Colonial Sports, it wasn’t that bad, but only because I was naive and innocent.  It wasn’t until I started to put two-and-two together and suddenly realized what everyone was doing to me.  I would be excluded from groups, mocked at, used as the butt of jokes (it seems harmless now, but when you’re still innocent and young, they hurt), and it would just pile and pile and pile and pile till I was usually driven myself to hide behind the front desk or in a cubbyhole and sob.  It wasn’t until 4th grade that I met my best friend who still is to this day; they made it bearable and they actually treated me as a friend.  I would be excited to talk to him again and have someone to actually play with.  That was until he no longer was coming to CS anymore, then Hell returned, stronger this time.

Now, people may be confused and look at me strange when I tell them this, but it’s true:

I’m a murderer.

Deep within my psyche, my innocence was being tortured more and more with every passing day and hour.  So, deep within my mind, my survival talked to me and I had to do something; had to kill him.

I had to murder my innocence.  The very child my mother put forth so much effort and money into raising to be into this sweet, kind boy.  A child whose smile was always pure and was nice to his family.  A youth who tried his damnedest to be the child his parents wanted him to be...

I had to kill him, just to survive.  Every time I was bullied, I had to maim him a bit more and more to bolster my mental fortitude and survival and it sharpened my mind like a vorpal knife, able to pick up more and more quickly on lies and tricks and what was true and not.  At first, it worked for a while; it got me through Colonial Sports.  But then I had to leave because I was too old and that mentality didn’t go away in Jr. High.  In fact, it was only worse.

My thoughts kept thinking about ending it all, I’m not worth it, how lonely I was--I even tried to take my own filet knife to my throat, but I couldn’t.  Something else was grasping me and holding me to this world. It wasn’t until the very beginning of High School that I had conquered my suicidal thoughts.  It wasn’t also until I was about 19 that I finally gotten over Shania.  I thought I was freed.  I was even having fun in High School, learning new things, trying out a new curriculum here and there.  I even joined the Anime Club late 11th grade.

But towards the end of 12th grade, that void returned to me, as I became more and more aware of what people were talking about.  I didn’t realize it until it was too late; that it manifested--no, that void incarnated inside of me, and with a hell-bent vengeance.  Social medias, gossip, news, so many things I saw and heard that kept telling me what I was.

Before anyone asks, the answer is no: I am not suicidal anymore, my will is too strong to cave into it, but then I realized that’s not what it wants me to do...But I’ll come to that.  Anyways, what I’m going through is more of a...side-effect, of when I was suicidal, and became this different form of depression.  I had helped so many people face their depression and come out of that pit and stayed by them and watched them heal.  I have been sought after from friends online for guidance or even just simple opinions on their troubles, and I would offer my honesty.  But then I realized something awful.

I kept pushing them away whenever someone offered to help me.  I was living my life as what people improperly define as a martyr nowadays; caring more about others than my own well-being.  But I didn’t care; whenever I someone asked me how they could repay me for helping them out, I always told them, “You already are: smiling.”  And it was the truth.  Just that simple, pure smile was always able to pull me out of my darkest thoughts.  But there are times when I am reminded; why I’m hated, why I’m alone, why I’m not good enough.

When I was young, it was the time when autism wasn’t well known and medical science was just beginning to learn more about the brain.  The doctors diagnosed me with autism and ADHD and told my mom that if I wasn’t taught and raised properly before the age of 3, I would be mentally retarded for the rest of my life.

I was 2 1/2 when I was diagnosed.  Yet my mom refused to give up on me.  If it wasn’t for her spending so much of her resources and my family doing their best to support me, I wouldn’t be who I am now.  But that’s not the point...

They said that I would never be able to keep a full-time job, or said that I won’t be able to support myself with enough funds for my future, or hold a family together, or surmount to anything meaningful.  But that’s not the point: what they said I couldn’t or only capable of doing wasn’t that drove me off the edge.

It was proving them right.

I suffer mental breakdowns.  Bad ones.  In fact, while I was still a cart boy, I had them happen to me twice while I was still on the clock!  One day I had it twice.  I had to actually sit down and sob silently in the back of the building where we have our inventory or during the summer I hid behind a Subway and just collapsed there to weep.  Because I am reminded of why I am hated, but not for who I am.  I’m hated for what I am.

I would never, ever, ever, hit a woman out of rage: only in self-defense.  But that doesn’t matter; because all men are abusive animals.  I don’t see women as a fleshy sack of pleasure, I see them as wonderful beings with a mind and emotions, just like me.  But that doesn’t matter; because all men are perverted pigs.  I don’t have a single racist bone in my body, and in fact when I see it, I get infuriated and defend the victim immediately.  But that doesn’t matter; because I’m white.  I don’t see Asians Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Russian, African-American, or Latinos or any other race as a kink or exotic, I see them as a chance to learn about their culture and and a friend.  But that doesn’t matter; because I’m an American.  I was placed 83 out of over 500 classmates when I graduated, and I put in so much effort to have that mind and heart.  But that doesn’t matter; because I have a mental condition.  I care so much for people who are in pain, physically or emotionally, and I wouldn’t hesitate for a second to offer a caring arm.  But that doesn’t matter; because men are lazy and apathetic.  I have emotions and feelings too, a heart that breaks for those who are hurting and  fury to those who abuse, I want to show those who are alone that they are loved by others and put those who see themselves as self-important in their place.  I have a heart that hurts and feelings, I am not afraid to cry if I could and smile for those who need one.  But that doesn’t matter; because all men don’t have feelings or care about others.  I want to feel the warmth of a girl’s embrace around me, to feel some ounce of love or meaning to someone, to be able to have that special someone that not only I can bring a smile to their face, but a they can do the same for me.  I don’t need to have a marriage that is driven by sex or money; I want a marriage that can last a lifetime, even through struggles and times of trouble, I want someone who I can be happy with for the rest of my life, even if I never have sex.  I want to have a child to call my own and share my joy with, to see them smile whenever I come home and dote over, to raise and see them flourish.  But that doesn’t matter; because all men care about is cars, money, and sex.  I don’t care what sex, gender, or sexual orientation is, as long you respect my borders, I’ll respect yours and I’ll see you as who you are: a friend.  But that doesn’t matter; because I’m a heterosexual.

All of those, and then some...they come falling onto me like a rock slide whenever I screw up.  Burying me deeper and deeper under their screams and hate and even borderline illogical reasons.  But that doesn’t matter; because I have no voice anymore once I’m buried.   And even if I did, I’m wrong anyways, because I’m ‘x.’  That’s when I realized why he doesn’t want to kill me: he wants me to give into his wrath and become that monster that I fear the most.  Whenever someone asks me what my biggest fear is and says to be honest, I answer, with 120% honesty, “I am...”  Because once a person’s mind snaps, there’s no telling what they’re capable of.  I know what I’m capable of, it’s just a matter of how far it’ll go and who will it destroy.

Now that you know some backstory, its time to go full circle.

While I was watching Jared’s videos of his Doki Doki Literature Club play-through, I was having many laughs watching his expressions and reactions.

Until that moment when Sayori opened up to him.  I won’t lie, I had the exact same reaction, down to even the timing, that Jared had, and I knew immediately where is thoughts went.  I was in the same mindset he was in.  Because we both could relate to her right away, because we both were in that same exact pit.  It didn’t matter that she was just some computer game character; there was real motions behind that character.  What was a fun, happy and silly time became what may have left like reality to him.  To me, it was reality.  And I can’t tell you, the unison of thoughts and words that I had with Jared to what the player’s character was saying to this broken girl.  It didn’t matter she wasn’t real to some people.  She was real to me, and she was even to the game, real.  I wanted to help so bad, but when it came to that decision Jared had to make...Well, just long story short, after that I was on the same boat as Jared the whole rest of the ride.  The realization that each of those four girls had their own form of depression and how destructive it was becoming to them.  I wanted to help them all, and I don’t wanna speak for Jared but just by his voice alone, it felt like he did too.  But I felt the same hopelessness he did when the game reminded us that we couldn’t; and that’s one of the worst feelings I can ever feel in my heart.

I honestly didn’t want to continue after when Sayori hanged herself (uh...spoilers, I guess...), because of how much it hurt, how that hit home like a warhead.  But, I knew if I did, I would be a coward.  So instead, I found courage.

It was...odd, in a sense.  As he was playing the rest of the game, it felt like I going through memory lane of not just my own depression, but of all of those around me who did and how similar they were to them.  I had friends who were cutters, binge-eaters, suicidal, self-harming...so many types, and I have been able to help them, but time away from that has dulled my wisdom.  Going through this highway wasn’t depressing but, rather...encouraging.  I was able to see myself and how far I had come from that abysmal pit, even though I’m in this new one, I’m still climbing my way out more and more.  I had to watch the rest of it, not for entertainment purposes, but for healing.

I caught on very quickly on what was going on the moment I saw Monika’s second poem, how close it was to relating to computers.  But then after I heard Sayori saying “Monika was right in saying I...”  I knew right away what was up.  I loathed her...to the point of even calling her a wench.  That was until the finale...

I wanted to hate myself for calling her a wench because then after that one-on-one with Monika, I realized why; how alone she was and n knowing that she and you were the only “real” people there.  I was ashamed of calling her that...When she admitted that she didn’t really delete the other girls because she didn’t have the heart to and all...to me, she redeemed herself.  And to the point when Sayori had the powers of the “club president,” Monika still intervened even after she was deleted because she realized what she really wanted: she didn’t want any harm to come to the player.  The very same thing I would’ve done in her position.  She realized that, as a computer character, that there was no joy to be found at that rate, and decided to completely shut everything down; just to save you.  How I wanted to weep...

So, Jared, if by some bizarre reason you do read this (and have the time for that matter), I wanted to say to you:

Thank you, with the utmost and heartfelt honesty.

This play-through, while emotionally heavy and hard, reminded me that this sort of thing needs more awareness.  That depression is more than just a “mental sickness” by some clinical standards.  Everyone is unique and handles their minds in their own special way.  I know for me, when I get frustrated at myself (which I do more often than at others), I don’t need someone to try to comfort me; I need time alone to mentally vent.  When I’m ready to talk, I’ll talk.  That’s my own thing, I don’t know about you, or anyone else for that matter without them opening up.  But I digress, because what your videos of DDLC really brought upon me, was the courage to open up about my own issues, to come clean.  I was able to share my own emotions with someone, who had been through the same pain, and wanted to reach out as well.  For an experience that, well, honestly I probably would never be able to find anywhere else and remind myself of who I am and where I came from...and that I still can make a difference in someone’s life.

Thank you

Sneak peek for next part on “Check-Mate” comic.

There’s a reason for this sneak peek, and a pretty good one, too.

I dun goofed big time.

“Mortal...I shall not ask if thoust know whom he doth approach, for thou would hath fled like a wolf’s tail between his legs, nor doth step forward so boldly if you didn’t know what stands before you...”

“For what else other reason would I dare approach a trial dragon; to overcome my own trials that fester in my heart.”

“So thou dost not fear death?”

“Don’t you?”

But I did get a lot of laughs today from you guys on tumblr :D so I guess it wasn’t that bland of a birthday.

Another  pen art I did while at church just a few days ago.

“Have you ever noticed that when a couple go to kiss, their heads start to form the shape of a heart?”

In case you couldn’t tell or haven’t heard me say it before: I’m a huge frickin’ sap for romantic crap, and by golly these two were pretty much at the heart of a lot of my lovey-dovey drawings.

Drake Winston and Meryl...holy crap, these characters have existed for how many years, and I never gave her a proper last name...hum...anyone wanna gimme any suggestions?  Anyways, these two high school kids were pretty much my two main characters of another comic I was working during school as my senior project.  I always had fun drawing my high school kiddos because they were always vibrant and I just loved to express their personalities and flaws and whatnot.  I should start drawing them again some time later, maybe for like “get to know the OC’s” or something like that.  Or just silly short comics.