An observant slave to automation.

What started out as a game has turned into somewhat of a predicament.

Though, I did tell you of it. I asked for help. I bet it could have been prevented somehow, but no. It'll go away. It's nothing, dad had it for a while when he was young, it went away. I told you the medical term for it and you disregarded it, simply said "They just called it anxiety when I was a kid."

Obviously it's a bit more complicated than that. Nothing feels like it should anymore. It's bittersweet; I've become more observant of my surroundings. At the same time, I can't understand what they are. I've become numb to the sensations of life, but more open to thoughts. Pleasure is just a word, the irony being I can feel it, but only for a short amount of time, and then it's lost. I know what it feels like, I remember what it feels like. But I don't feel it as it happens, I remember how it felt and apply it to that moment. Pleasures greater than those I've already experienced are nonexistent.

I've become one of those "weird" people who find no interest in sex anymore. I don't care about it. This could be because of the depression, the anxiety, the stress, so I won't say that "I" personally don't care about it, it's just buried under six feet of problems.

Videos are the eyes that I've lost. The smooth movements and the ability to concentrate on a particular element of life is reassuring. Videos allow me to do it; they let me see what I used to see. Now everything is rough. The motions that I see can be best described as a sort of jump between pictures. I don't see everything as a constant video. I see it as a video that has yet to be buffered, but I'm so eager to see the video I press the play button anyway.

I'm tired of my friends telling me that I need help. I know that I do, but I have this feeling inside holding be back. I don't know what it is, it's sort of a fear. Am I scared because of what I think a doctor will tell me? I have no trust nor faith in doctors, this could be it as well.