Fed Monster

Category: psychology

  • Schooling

    Due to me being in hospital, the psychiatrist asked for all of my report cards from every year of school. I had not read these since they were presented to me after each year that I had finished a grade. I went through each report card summary/comment from each teacher and it was very interesting. In early development I was a very distracted child and preoccupied with various distractions around the classroom. I was not explicitly “naughty”, just distracted and lacking effort in some cases. Most of it was fairly positive. Until high school began. I saw a slow decline each year while in high school, especially over the age of fifteen. This is when I was really struggling/suffering from mental health and never told anyone. I thought I knew what I was doing at the time. I was certain that the things I went through at that age were the “feds”. This was around the time I was actively hacking without considering the consequences of my actions.

    I had a good childhood regarding family/home life. I suppose it was a bit rough in the beginning as my younger brother whom my mother was still pregnant with had just lost his father. I would have been two years old at the time. I was definitely present in the aftermath of the a terrible situation. Mum made it work as best she could. My biological father really wasn’t around. He did take the time to come down to see me while this was all taking place for a short time. Having no father figure never really bothered me growing up. I sometimes thought about it and I would keep contact with him once a year via a phone call. He sent me a card on my seventh birthday. I don’t hate my father and would rekindle things without quarrel if I had the opportunity as family is important to me. However, as of now, it feels as though he wants little to do with me.

    It was really interesting going through my schooling history and reading the comments/reports. I’m probably the same age now as the teachers when they wrote those reports. I have some discrepancies with one or two of the reports. I can see which teachers were solid and which ones were giving bad reports. Because it was so long ago I don’t know whether or not it was me that was the problem or them. If you have your report cards available at an older age you should definitely go through them.

  • Reflection

    I reflect on my life and all I am left with is a brutality of horrible visions and events. It feels like I’ve been living with the devil. It has been a struggle. A struggle to sleep, a struggle to eat, a struggle to live. Something has dealt so much pain over the years.

    Everything is fine now but that can change in an instant. Every time I tell myself that it’s over, it just starts back up again. I wonder a lot. I wonder why it’s happening. I wonder if wondering is apathy, or perhaps worse. Life is unfair. Almost like I’m talking to God. Call it what you want. The problem is that there no reason for it. My suffering is an injustice, if anyone were to ever see it, they would pray to God. I wrote a poem while I was in the midst of a behemoth event. Here’s a small part of it.

    A man his whole life has himself stuck on a string,

    I feel a little spider crawl across my skin,

    My little spider, this fear is not the same thing,

    Do you feel enough pain to feel him

    I think about all that I have suffered and how relentless the prior experiences have been, there is no rest or sympathy, these forces do not relent. They’ve been such a huge distraction in my life. They’re the one thing I’ve grown to fear over time. The gripe I have with the entire catastrophe is that there is no reason, no lesson.

    I’ve spent so long trying to achieve something in music. I’m looking at it all realizing that it was probably the only thing that kept my head on my shoulders all those years, not the music itself but the up-and-coming just hold on mothers’ spaghetti rapper survival framework. There’s got to be a reason; why not have the reason be envy. A green alien on an intergalactic space station on the other side of the moon plotting the demise of my artwork.

    Regardless, it’s a serious problem. I’m worried about the future. The main thing that keeps me going is it won’t be like this in the future; this is what keeps me moving forward. It ends.