i don't feel real. do you have to be here? i hope you're happy looking at the fruit of my horrors. i always feel fake, just existing. it's not like i'm needed, right? whoever you are, do you really care what i'm going through? you don't know who i am or where i came from. you have no idea what's going on with me to trigger these emotions. you have no idea, and you probably barely care. you don't have to, of course. but i'm happy if you can stay here and talk to me. maybe you think i'm doing this all for attention, the internet convinces us that no pne else matters. they are only profile pictures, pixels, digital actions that you will forget about. we never stop to notice that the people behind these digitalized interactions are real human beings that live and breathe. after this, will you ever think about me again? are you okay with that? am i? i don't know. and i suppose you will never know what i think. because i don't mind if i never interact with you again. it's gonna be ok. it will be ok when you forget about this moment. i will eventually delete all of this text. it will live on in my notes app, on a lonely laptop. and it will be ok. you will be ok. i will be ok. everything will be ok. there is no reason to worry ourselves more about the future of this memory. let yourself be comforted. by the simple existence of this moment now. while we're together, i hope you can enjoy this moment we spend together. and i invite you to relive it as long as you want. i only wish to comfort my fellow humans, i believe you deserve it. but sometimes, i wonder how many people will read this and feel anything. if anyone will be angered, if anyone will have bad intentions, if anyone will care at all. do you care? i have no way to know. i appreciate if you've read all of this though, i guess. reading my deranged ramblings as i wish i was talking to a medical professional instead of whoever the fuck you are. is it enjoyable? you must be a sicko if you think so. but, whatever, i don't know you, you don't know me, and i'm a nervous, traumatized fuck who has soent the day watching creepy videos and questioning if i have schizotypal personality disorder, or bipolar disorder, or dissociative identity disorder. i want to type more, subject any willing listeners to my nervous yapping. do you want to hear anymore? do you care? is anyone still reading, listening to me scream into the void while on the verge of tears? will i ever get where i want? will i ever get better? will you get better? are you ok in the first place? are you like me? do i just sound insane? because i probably am? sorry to anyone who came here for dsaf, i do enjoy it but i didn't know what to tag this. i wasn't preparing for the mental breakdown, and now, i want it to be the only way to find this. to find my random writing. hopefully someone who also is obsessed with dsaf will come here and i will eventually link one of my actual social media or update this stupid website.