Because I knew it wouldn't do any good at the time. I go around carrying this fragile, weak, eroded wall of confidence and bravery, behind which is a squabbling child perpetually trapped in his own nightmares of failing my friends and family, of being alone, abandoned, forgotten. I try to hold that wall up. I do my very best. Most days, I can barely make it back to bed before the breakdown happens. It's inevitable. Problem is, because I've repressed those problems for so long, I've started subconsciously repressing other parts of my personality, resulting in an emotionless history barely supported by a crumbling Pillar of video games and writing. In this state, the only way I can deal with this sort of thing is arguing my beliefs to the death. I tend to get pretty overzealous, too. Insults, hatred, arguing... it gets to me like nothing else has the capability of doing. I fight for my life in this crumbling woke version of the USA while silently yearning for the days when I could scroll through the internet without seeing hatred, harassment, and other such things every few seconds.
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