hopper

CW politics, suicide

The real world is marching ever closer towards a hyper-capitalist, mega-consumerist hellscape. Some might even say that we already are in a cyberpunk dystopia, minus all the cool shit.

So then why is one of the highlights of my week pretending to be a criminal in a hyper-capitalist, mega-consumerist hellscape with metahumans, dragons, drones, and drek?

It's simple. It's a great escape because in that world, I can actually change things. I don't feel nearly as powerless as I do in real life. Sad!

I've been going through a “rough time” for the past 10 or 15 years, but the past three years have been a special kind of hell partly of this dumpster fire of an administration and partly because of my own personal bullshit. There have been more than a few times in these past few years where I felt like giving up altogether.

And like my coffee, my soul is black, and I can only hold so much...darkness...inside. – XxFallenAngle87xX

Writing has always been an outlet for me, and by creating characters modeled after myself or after people I've known I've been able to channel the rage, depression, joy, hate, love, humor...I've felt throughout the years into them.

So whenever something goes wrong in my life, I have this one particular character suffer through a version of that, but much, much worse. She is, after all, just a more traumatized, even more socially inept version of myself. There. I said it! I can't deny it anymore!

So anyway, my father died less than a year before I created this character's backstory and because of my unresolved grief and general penchant for angst I felt I needed to make it the tragic sort of backstory. Naturally, that meant I had to kill off both of her parents, in front of her during what ought to have been a routine pickup, just a few days after her birthday.

The anger and frustration I've felt (or rather am feeling) with my current employer translated into my character being a victim of a megacorp's (her employer's) transgressions, being made into a test subject for a nefarious clinical trial involving simulated torture and psychotropic agents, suffering an abundance of emotional trauma to the point where she makes two attempts at her life...you know, light subjects like that.

I never said I was kind to my characters.

And don't worry, I'm already in therapy.

(Seems appropriate the song I was listening to while writing this kept repeating “Dying on the inside”.)