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Nowhere To Go. – The scribblings of a chronically depressed, autistic, and agoraphobic hermit who hasn't left the house by himself in nearly 15 years. I'm currently 28 years old, male, and, speaking purely to what exists on the surface, would appear to have nothing wrong with himself whatsoever. Beneath the surface however, lurks a random assortment of mental health problems, ranging from depression to OCD to a rather nasty propensity towards paranoid delusion. I'm also, not that it will come as any sort of surprise to anyone, a friends-less, holding hands-less, hug-less, kiss-less, virgin. I'm no incel however and, while I am lonely, I have no desire to ever be in a relationship with anyone, since, truth be told, I don't consider myself emotionally or mentally capable of ever having one, my life as a manchild hermit dismissing the possibility altogether notwithstanding. On that note, I live with both my parents as I always have and, as of this moment, like I said, haven't left this house by myself in nearly 15 years. Long, verbose, self-indulgent posts whinging about the agonizing futility of my individual existence and how empty I feel life to be simply as a default, regardless of my actual circumstances, will be pretty much the norm here. For what it's worth, I'd consider myself an efilist, a cynic and a general misanthrope when it comes to my outlook on life and other people. I'd say that the biggest regret I have in my life up till this point is that I haven't managed to kill myself yet.
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Description |
The scribblings of a chronically depressed, autistic, and agoraphobic hermit who hasn't left the house by himself in nearly 15 years. I'm currently 28 years old, male, and, speaking purely to what exists on the surface, would appear to have nothing wrong with himself whatsoever. Beneath the surface however, lurks a random assortment of mental health problems, ranging from depression to OCD to a rather nasty propensity towards paranoid delusion. I'm also, not that it will come as any sort of surprise to anyone, a friends-less, holding hands-less, hug-less, kiss-less, virgin. I'm no incel however and, while I am lonely, I have no desire to ever be in a relationship with anyone, since, truth be told, I don't consider myself emotionally or mentally capable of ever having one, my life as a manchild hermit dismissing the possibility altogether notwithstanding. On that note, I live with both my parents as I always have and, as of this moment, like I said, haven't left this house by myself in nearly 15 years. Long, verbose, self-indulgent posts whinging about the agonizing futility of my individual existence and how empty I feel life to be simply as a default, regardless of my actual circumstances, will be pretty much the norm here. For what it's worth, I'd consider myself an efilist, a cynic and a general misanthrope when it comes to my outlook on life and other people. I'd say that the biggest regret I have in my life up till this point is that I haven't managed to kill myself yet.
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