Sakura.
Nienawidzę siebie.
- May 1, 2024
- 152
Yesterday, when I had to leave my room after almost six days and, as a repulsive-looking autistic person, step out into a world full of beautiful, joyful, and wonderful people, I remembered the poem "Tomino's Hell" for the first time in a very long time. I encountered it at the turn of 2022 and 2023, when I was playing the "Doki Doki Blue Skies" mod for the game "Doki Doki Literature Club," where it appeared. It's also surreal to me that not so long ago, despite being in an equally dire, or perhaps even worse, mental state, I was able to watch even a little anime or even read visual novels, something that is completely impossible for me today.
I must admit, when I read this poem many times, when I first encountered it, I couldn't quite grasp its meaning or decipher its story. Perhaps there's no truly compeling story at all, and it's not a good poem at all, yet it's the subject of such adoration and such fascination, precisely because of which its fans attach meaning to it that it doesn't originally have. So I must admit, I don't particularly like or appreciate this poem.
But at the same time, its motif of a person's personal hell was something that struck me, and what made me remember it all these years. It will probably be difficult for you to grasp what I'm about to say, but often, feeling my situation, I've evoked "Tomino's Hell" as a catchphrase, thinking of my situation in precisely that way.
Because I, too, have my own hell. I live in it. I'm a repulsive-looking autistic person whom no one wants to have anything to do with. No one treats me like a human being. No one wants to talk to me, no one wants to be my friend, no one even wants me to simply exist. My very existence or presence is humiliating to everyone else. I'm human trash. And there's nothing I can do about it.
And no, psychiatry, it's not that "it's all in my head", that it's my "inadequate and distorted thinking". It's not that—having to live this horrible life and being unable to do anything about it—if I feel bad about it, it means that I have a mental disorder, because in such a situation I should feel perfectly fine, or that I simply have some biochemical imbalance in my brain and all I have to do is intoxicate myself with psychotropic substances.
My life is hell. There exists my own personal hell.
"My Hell".
I must admit, when I read this poem many times, when I first encountered it, I couldn't quite grasp its meaning or decipher its story. Perhaps there's no truly compeling story at all, and it's not a good poem at all, yet it's the subject of such adoration and such fascination, precisely because of which its fans attach meaning to it that it doesn't originally have. So I must admit, I don't particularly like or appreciate this poem.
But at the same time, its motif of a person's personal hell was something that struck me, and what made me remember it all these years. It will probably be difficult for you to grasp what I'm about to say, but often, feeling my situation, I've evoked "Tomino's Hell" as a catchphrase, thinking of my situation in precisely that way.
Because I, too, have my own hell. I live in it. I'm a repulsive-looking autistic person whom no one wants to have anything to do with. No one treats me like a human being. No one wants to talk to me, no one wants to be my friend, no one even wants me to simply exist. My very existence or presence is humiliating to everyone else. I'm human trash. And there's nothing I can do about it.
And no, psychiatry, it's not that "it's all in my head", that it's my "inadequate and distorted thinking". It's not that—having to live this horrible life and being unable to do anything about it—if I feel bad about it, it means that I have a mental disorder, because in such a situation I should feel perfectly fine, or that I simply have some biochemical imbalance in my brain and all I have to do is intoxicate myself with psychotropic substances.
My life is hell. There exists my own personal hell.
"My Hell".
