50 posts (really), madness, and the death(?) of a blog

Type A/B post.

You know what? Fuck this shit. I'm done. I'm gonna (for now) kill this blog. I'll still make manga updates, but I'm tired of this shit.

And it's not just because of the fact that the only two people that have ever read my blog I hardly know, nor is it just because of the fact that I hardly know my own brother, much less my own friends, MUCH LESS any other potential reader.

It because of all that and the fact that I no longer have the will to write anything anymore. I have no social circle to count on. My family is never online (and probably doesn't even know about the existence of this blog). I'm not only near-constantly physically isolated from non-family human beings (almost three years now), and not only can I count the number of friends that I have left thanks to said physical isolation with one hand, but I also have the most extreme case of emotional isolation that I've ever known, to the point where (like now) I get so fucking insane Freud would dismiss me as a non-human, an animal or whatever.

I need frequent physical contact with non-family members to remedy this. In my case, this is impossible. And it'll likely be 2-3 months before I ever start any kind of therapy. This means that my madness has another 60-90 days to get exponentially worse and worse, so if you think Unsorted Shit 3 was me at my craziest, that's fucking tame compared to my current madness, which will be tame compared to next week's madness, and so on. With current trands, I don't see myself surviving the year. At all.

And I'm supposed to make BLOG POSTS?? In my current state, every single night it's a miracle that I haven't killed myself during the day. And I have no physical in-town friends to convince me otherwise. Hell, my ONLINE friends actually have lives, worries, and friends of their own, so why the fuck should they keep in contact with some dude in Idaho that they don't even really know?

You know what? Fuck this. All of this. This blog is dead, my life is long dead, and all that's really left is some husk of a human. Human husks are best left forgotten, and so should their words.