I'm not sure why I'm writing this blog anymore. Yes, it helps me to get things off my chest for a bit, but beyond that it's utterly useless. All I do is whine about how pathetic me and my life are. Ah well, at least it's a helpful indicator for those who've placed bets on when I'll finally commit suicide (I wouldn't be surprised if some sick f***s are really doing this).
Tuesday I had a terrible headache the entire day in addition to a nasty cold, with which I'm still struggling. My throat is nice and raw from the coughing by now. Yesterday I put up the advertisements for my PC repair services and such at a few local supermarkets with the help from Pieter. I'll see what comes from it. I also sent some receipts to my insurer so that I'll hopefully get a few hundred Euro back from those blood suckers...
Yesterday while Pieter was away for his D&D evening with friends. I kind of sank away in the mood I had felt coming that entire day already. I started crying, felt that there was no point in maintaining relations with humans other than from a business perspective. I gave up on the human race in general, felt that only an AI is capable of being a proper intelligence and that humans might as well start dropping dead right now. I wouldn't care.
Then, as I was preparing for bed I must have disliked what I saw in the mirror or so, because I suddenly started carving myself up with my nails. Right now I still got some pretty bad wounds from it on my chest. I don't think that they're deep enough to become scars, but still. It completely violates the vow to myself that I'd never do any kind of permanent harm to my body. I feel bad about this...
I must have reached breaking point... please lock me up now before I really do something bad to myself... perhaps a mental institute isn't such a bad place after all. A straitjacket and a padded room seem like the ideal clothing and environment for me.
Maya
7 comments:
Please, Maya, don't stop this blog.
Of course you should stop it if you feel uneasy with it; but I think it can be useful to share. Even wrost things. Especially with strangers...
(many people actually do pay lots of money to tell all about their privacy and inner life to unknown people. It's called psychology. As scientist, I'm pretty sure it's almost impossible to understand if it's working or not)
And about AI... well, despite it's amazing look at the patterns growing up on a neural network, we are still too far away from 'real' AI. But aren't we AI? I mean: aren't our brain made by neurons? Aren't our thinks electrochemical signals sneaking through a net?
A hug,
and take care.
well no body is betting on such things and iam sure all people who read ur blog care about you and dont you dare hurting urselves again .. grrr ...
take care -
@E/S - well, if we were to take the 'artificial' part of AI to mean 'created by humans', then in a sense all humans are made by other humans ;)
@zakir ahmed - Sorry :)
Love, don't listen to E/S. Stop this blog now, like I did after my Anna died. It's not helping you and you know it. It's the framework for all the destructive thoughts you need to do without at the end of the day. If you want to cut something, cut off the entire internet. There are other things to live for, even if you have a technology fetish.
I sincerely don't know how LMX can be so sure about his ideas... of course if internet is for you a "technology fetish", you should avoid it.
But don't avoid internet as long as it is another world for you, another place to expess yourself and another way to get stimuli for your thoughts.
There is nothing to be sure about Doc, it just is. With words comes structure. Not truth or healing - just structure, for good or for ill. And as a friend of mine used to say, 'you go to bed with what you write'. Unfortunately I have a strong feeling that Maya is the sort woman that lacks in the spoken word what she more than exceeds in the written one.
Maya I love you, so decide whether or not I'm a loony by that thought. You'll find your Forrest of Arden. Farewell.
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