makotoyuki
Persona
- Aug 2, 2026
- 23
Hi there.
I apologize if the story I've written contains errors or could be misunderstood by the audience; I will answer any questions.
My childhood was pretty normal overall; I was a very happy, outgoing kid. I loved anime and the fashion of the 2000s and 2010s styles I still enjoy to this day but nothing particularly noteworthy happened back then.
In elementary school (grades 1 through 6), I did well academically and had plenty of friends.
After finishing elementary school...
I was transferred to a secondary school (grades 7 through 12).
My parents decided to move me or rather, forced me to a school I didn't want to attend. I had no interest in the subjects they taught there (mechanics, blacksmithing, and carpentry); while I respect and admire those trades, they just weren't for me.
They did it all with the argument that they wanted a better future for me (which is understandable, all things considered).
Since it was a predominantly male school, there was a lot of competition among the guys—something I honestly never cared about. Combine that with the fact that I was unattractive and had low self-esteem, and I simply felt safer on my own.
From Monday to Thursday, we had a double shift (8 a.m. to 6 p.m.) with a one-hour break (12 p.m. to 1 p.m.). Since the school was in a central location, buying food there was expensive; as a poor new kid, I had to settle for just tea or coffee—something I think contributed to the nutritional issues I developed two years later. On top of that, my parents never gave me any money, so I'd watch my classmates go out to eat together, attend conventions, and socialize.
I know that looking back now, it sounds idiotic or stupid, but at the time, it really hurt; basically, from the moment I woke up until I went to sleep, I felt nothing but cringey embarrassment about myself.
It really hurt—even the way I dressed; they wore nice clothes, and naturally, they looked at me with a mix of pity and mockery. As I said, besides being poor, let's just say I was very unattractive and had extremely low self-esteem.
The situation at school was terrible: students from different classes were constantly fighting, and the teachers were highly authoritarian and aggressive—as if they hated being there.
I didn't experience physical bullying, but I did face isolation, total discrimination, and rejection—mostly because of my physical features and skin tone, though I have to admit that the boys who discriminated against me were very handsome.
I had a really hard time that year; on top of the fighting at home and my failing grades, my mother accused me of being a bad, ungrateful son, while my father never cared what I was going through. Eventually, I ended up repeating the year. There were many nights of depression and the first thoughts
The only good thing was that I was transferred to another school, but the bullying didn't stop; I remained the weirdo or the class idiot until I finished my studies.
At that time—lacking self-esteem, friends, or anyone to confide in—I sought refuge in various online forums; I was an unsupervised kid who, despite my youth, was already was already talking to much older men.
Around 2017–2018, something really caught my eye and became a fixation: the "femboy" aesthetic—guys who dressed in a feminine style. I was—and still am—someone who simply never knew how to, nor cared to, form romantic connections with women; I preferred to avoid bothering or making them uncomfortable. I've been that way since I was a kid. To be clear, I was never an incel or a misogynist, nor did I harbor hatred toward women; they just didn't appeal to me. If there are guys better than me—financially, physically, or mentally—who can offer them more than I could, it makes me happy just knowing they're happy and building good relationships.
Anyway, back then, when I was alone at night, I loved cross-dressing or dressing as a femboy, taking photos, and sharing them in chats to get attention from guys—craving even the slightest bit of affection or notice. Since my parents gave me free rein, I just didn't care about the consequences.
So far, this is just the beginning; the worst problem and my worst mistake are coming now.
I'll continue in a bit; sorry.
I used to talk a lot with two guys who lived nearby—though I was already chatting with plenty of guys older than me online, things got a bit more intimate with these two.
They were between 25 and 27 at the time; I felt safe talking to them because they gave me attention and conversation, though I'm going to focus on just one of them.
This guy would invite me over to hang out and play video games; he loved playing *Overwatch*—it was the only game where he could actually climb the ranks.
I went because I felt miserable at home—no one paid attention to me or cared about me—and combined with how badly things were going at school, I just wanted to be happy for a little while.
The guy had some strange behaviors (like making me sit on his lap, fondling me, and watching all kinds of videos together—you name it).
According to him, it was all just a game—and yes, exactly what you're thinking happened, happened.
For him, it was simply experimentation; I'd open up about my life, and he'd say he was curious about me—my tastes, whether I liked girls. I told him things were going badly for me and that I was very shy around girls.
He'd ask if I liked anime or things like that, and—like an idiot—I said yes, and that I was specifically into the "femboy" style...
We kept seeing each other a few more times; because of my emotional dependency, I continued the relationship until I came of age. I could tell you about other situations, but I can't—my mind has blocked out a lot of what happened with this guy. The only good thing was that my parents never found out what went on with him; he disappeared, and nowadays I know very little about him—nor do I want to.
As I was nearing adulthood...
I became increasingly obsessed with food, wanting to be thin and "cute."
I started skipping meals. Between what was happening at school, at home, and with those two guys, I began to turn my aggression inward—punching walls and hurting myself. My mother didn't just get scared; she got angry—mostly because I was alone, friendless, and isolated. My father just worked and never said a word to me.
My mom took me to a psychologist, though she only went with me once; she insisted I needed to "man up," claimed my behavior was just a tantrum, and said she had more important things to do.
I managed to tell the psychologist about some of what I'd been through, though I couldn't share everything. Months later, I was referred to a psychiatrist; I only felt able to discuss my social and eating issues with her, so they put me on medication. The meds made me feel like a zombie and left me irritable during the day.
At night, however, I could sleep more peacefully and relaxed.
I continued like that until 2020, when I stopped treatment due to bureaucratic issues and was left to fend for myself.
try ctb twice during,the only symptoms I experienced were a severe headache, dizziness, and vomiting.
n 2021, after my failed attempts—and while depressed and with nothing to do—I became more interested in anime. I discovered titles like *Perfect Blue*, *Bleach*, and *Paprika*, as well as two of my favorites: *Lain* and *Nana*. I especially love the latter two because of the bands that give the works their soul: Bôa and Anna Tsuchiya.
After finishing high school, I began to take an interest in taking courses or studying at a university. However, I started noticing a strange attitude from my parents at home; it was as if they didn't want me to study but rather go straight to work, though they never stated this directly—only indirectly or through vague, offhand comments.
In 2023, my mother began treating me distantly, and whatever I brought up was dismissed as wrong.
I started seeing a psychologist because I was feeling deeply depressed and suffering from panic attacks.
My mother told me it was just a tantrum and would get angry if I felt unwell; I eventually dropped my studies due to the panic attacks and insomnia.
In my final session with my psychologist, I was able to talk about everything I had gone through, experienced, and done—at school, with those two individuals, and at home—as well as how I felt and what I truly wanted.
All I remember is my therapist looking me in the eye and saying, "I don't know how you keep going; you carry so much pain, sadness, and emptiness—it surprises me that you're still alive." I just remember my legs trembling, a lump forming in my throat, and becoming agitated.
After that last session, I spent three months lying in bed while my parents insisted I get a job immediately. They showed no interest in what I was going through, or they would say there were people worse off than me who weren't crying the way I was.
I endured the pain as best I could—while still looking for work—until, thanks to someone close to me, I finally found a job.
Fortunately, I am currently able to support myself financially, and my relationship with my parents is neutral...
The only reason I made this post is that, honestly, I feel empty—soulless. I see no future, especially given the society I live in; it's as if I were living under anesthesia or longing to sleep forever.
Everything is gray and empty; total loneliness is a strange thing—feeling nothing yet simultaneously needing human contact. It is a feeling that is both beautiful and terrible. Although I'm not shy anymore, I find it incredibly hard to open up and form friendships—whether with men or women. The few times I tried, or when something was about to happen, I refused to take the step; I preferred to run away or dodge the pressure.
I don't like social media; the only account I have is Instagram—and even that is minimal—kept only out of pressure and to check on the occasional thing.
I don't believe in dating apps, and I dislike nightclubs, conventions, and crowded places—more out of annoyance than shyness...
I always ask myself: what can I do to feel secure? To stop fearing what might happen, or to simply feel "okay"?
Melancholy, a lack of empathy, emptiness, and exhaustion took hold of my body and mind; for ten years, I have wanted to give up on everything.
Come to think of it, my dear reader, perhaps what we feel is that our greatest pain is the fear of living—more so than the fear of dying.
Melancholy, a lack of empathy, emptiness, and the exhaustion of hiding my truth took hold of my body and mind; for ten years, I have wanted to give up on everything.
On reflection, dear reader, perhaps what we feel is that our greatest pain is the fear of living—even more so than the fear of dying.
You can evade everything and ignore that thought for twenty-three hours and fifty-nine minutes, but that single minute before sleep—before passing to a better plane—feels eternal to me.
[I simply won't do it for the time being.ctb I am a gray soul, weeping inside as I read your words.]
I apologize if the story I've written contains errors or could be misunderstood by the audience; I will answer any questions.
My childhood was pretty normal overall; I was a very happy, outgoing kid. I loved anime and the fashion of the 2000s and 2010s styles I still enjoy to this day but nothing particularly noteworthy happened back then.
In elementary school (grades 1 through 6), I did well academically and had plenty of friends.
After finishing elementary school...
I was transferred to a secondary school (grades 7 through 12).
My parents decided to move me or rather, forced me to a school I didn't want to attend. I had no interest in the subjects they taught there (mechanics, blacksmithing, and carpentry); while I respect and admire those trades, they just weren't for me.
They did it all with the argument that they wanted a better future for me (which is understandable, all things considered).
Since it was a predominantly male school, there was a lot of competition among the guys—something I honestly never cared about. Combine that with the fact that I was unattractive and had low self-esteem, and I simply felt safer on my own.
From Monday to Thursday, we had a double shift (8 a.m. to 6 p.m.) with a one-hour break (12 p.m. to 1 p.m.). Since the school was in a central location, buying food there was expensive; as a poor new kid, I had to settle for just tea or coffee—something I think contributed to the nutritional issues I developed two years later. On top of that, my parents never gave me any money, so I'd watch my classmates go out to eat together, attend conventions, and socialize.
I know that looking back now, it sounds idiotic or stupid, but at the time, it really hurt; basically, from the moment I woke up until I went to sleep, I felt nothing but cringey embarrassment about myself.
It really hurt—even the way I dressed; they wore nice clothes, and naturally, they looked at me with a mix of pity and mockery. As I said, besides being poor, let's just say I was very unattractive and had extremely low self-esteem.
The situation at school was terrible: students from different classes were constantly fighting, and the teachers were highly authoritarian and aggressive—as if they hated being there.
I didn't experience physical bullying, but I did face isolation, total discrimination, and rejection—mostly because of my physical features and skin tone, though I have to admit that the boys who discriminated against me were very handsome.
I had a really hard time that year; on top of the fighting at home and my failing grades, my mother accused me of being a bad, ungrateful son, while my father never cared what I was going through. Eventually, I ended up repeating the year. There were many nights of depression and the first thoughts
The only good thing was that I was transferred to another school, but the bullying didn't stop; I remained the weirdo or the class idiot until I finished my studies.
At that time—lacking self-esteem, friends, or anyone to confide in—I sought refuge in various online forums; I was an unsupervised kid who, despite my youth, was already was already talking to much older men.
Around 2017–2018, something really caught my eye and became a fixation: the "femboy" aesthetic—guys who dressed in a feminine style. I was—and still am—someone who simply never knew how to, nor cared to, form romantic connections with women; I preferred to avoid bothering or making them uncomfortable. I've been that way since I was a kid. To be clear, I was never an incel or a misogynist, nor did I harbor hatred toward women; they just didn't appeal to me. If there are guys better than me—financially, physically, or mentally—who can offer them more than I could, it makes me happy just knowing they're happy and building good relationships.
Anyway, back then, when I was alone at night, I loved cross-dressing or dressing as a femboy, taking photos, and sharing them in chats to get attention from guys—craving even the slightest bit of affection or notice. Since my parents gave me free rein, I just didn't care about the consequences.
So far, this is just the beginning; the worst problem and my worst mistake are coming now.
I'll continue in a bit; sorry.
I used to talk a lot with two guys who lived nearby—though I was already chatting with plenty of guys older than me online, things got a bit more intimate with these two.
They were between 25 and 27 at the time; I felt safe talking to them because they gave me attention and conversation, though I'm going to focus on just one of them.
This guy would invite me over to hang out and play video games; he loved playing *Overwatch*—it was the only game where he could actually climb the ranks.
I went because I felt miserable at home—no one paid attention to me or cared about me—and combined with how badly things were going at school, I just wanted to be happy for a little while.
The guy had some strange behaviors (like making me sit on his lap, fondling me, and watching all kinds of videos together—you name it).
According to him, it was all just a game—and yes, exactly what you're thinking happened, happened.
For him, it was simply experimentation; I'd open up about my life, and he'd say he was curious about me—my tastes, whether I liked girls. I told him things were going badly for me and that I was very shy around girls.
He'd ask if I liked anime or things like that, and—like an idiot—I said yes, and that I was specifically into the "femboy" style...
We kept seeing each other a few more times; because of my emotional dependency, I continued the relationship until I came of age. I could tell you about other situations, but I can't—my mind has blocked out a lot of what happened with this guy. The only good thing was that my parents never found out what went on with him; he disappeared, and nowadays I know very little about him—nor do I want to.
As I was nearing adulthood...
I became increasingly obsessed with food, wanting to be thin and "cute."
I started skipping meals. Between what was happening at school, at home, and with those two guys, I began to turn my aggression inward—punching walls and hurting myself. My mother didn't just get scared; she got angry—mostly because I was alone, friendless, and isolated. My father just worked and never said a word to me.
My mom took me to a psychologist, though she only went with me once; she insisted I needed to "man up," claimed my behavior was just a tantrum, and said she had more important things to do.
I managed to tell the psychologist about some of what I'd been through, though I couldn't share everything. Months later, I was referred to a psychiatrist; I only felt able to discuss my social and eating issues with her, so they put me on medication. The meds made me feel like a zombie and left me irritable during the day.
At night, however, I could sleep more peacefully and relaxed.
I continued like that until 2020, when I stopped treatment due to bureaucratic issues and was left to fend for myself.
try ctb twice during,the only symptoms I experienced were a severe headache, dizziness, and vomiting.
n 2021, after my failed attempts—and while depressed and with nothing to do—I became more interested in anime. I discovered titles like *Perfect Blue*, *Bleach*, and *Paprika*, as well as two of my favorites: *Lain* and *Nana*. I especially love the latter two because of the bands that give the works their soul: Bôa and Anna Tsuchiya.
After finishing high school, I began to take an interest in taking courses or studying at a university. However, I started noticing a strange attitude from my parents at home; it was as if they didn't want me to study but rather go straight to work, though they never stated this directly—only indirectly or through vague, offhand comments.
In 2023, my mother began treating me distantly, and whatever I brought up was dismissed as wrong.
I started seeing a psychologist because I was feeling deeply depressed and suffering from panic attacks.
My mother told me it was just a tantrum and would get angry if I felt unwell; I eventually dropped my studies due to the panic attacks and insomnia.
In my final session with my psychologist, I was able to talk about everything I had gone through, experienced, and done—at school, with those two individuals, and at home—as well as how I felt and what I truly wanted.
All I remember is my therapist looking me in the eye and saying, "I don't know how you keep going; you carry so much pain, sadness, and emptiness—it surprises me that you're still alive." I just remember my legs trembling, a lump forming in my throat, and becoming agitated.
After that last session, I spent three months lying in bed while my parents insisted I get a job immediately. They showed no interest in what I was going through, or they would say there were people worse off than me who weren't crying the way I was.
I endured the pain as best I could—while still looking for work—until, thanks to someone close to me, I finally found a job.
Fortunately, I am currently able to support myself financially, and my relationship with my parents is neutral...
The only reason I made this post is that, honestly, I feel empty—soulless. I see no future, especially given the society I live in; it's as if I were living under anesthesia or longing to sleep forever.
Everything is gray and empty; total loneliness is a strange thing—feeling nothing yet simultaneously needing human contact. It is a feeling that is both beautiful and terrible. Although I'm not shy anymore, I find it incredibly hard to open up and form friendships—whether with men or women. The few times I tried, or when something was about to happen, I refused to take the step; I preferred to run away or dodge the pressure.
I don't like social media; the only account I have is Instagram—and even that is minimal—kept only out of pressure and to check on the occasional thing.
I don't believe in dating apps, and I dislike nightclubs, conventions, and crowded places—more out of annoyance than shyness...
I always ask myself: what can I do to feel secure? To stop fearing what might happen, or to simply feel "okay"?
Melancholy, a lack of empathy, emptiness, and exhaustion took hold of my body and mind; for ten years, I have wanted to give up on everything.
Come to think of it, my dear reader, perhaps what we feel is that our greatest pain is the fear of living—more so than the fear of dying.
Melancholy, a lack of empathy, emptiness, and the exhaustion of hiding my truth took hold of my body and mind; for ten years, I have wanted to give up on everything.
On reflection, dear reader, perhaps what we feel is that our greatest pain is the fear of living—even more so than the fear of dying.
You can evade everything and ignore that thought for twenty-three hours and fifty-nine minutes, but that single minute before sleep—before passing to a better plane—feels eternal to me.
[I simply won't do it for the time being.ctb I am a gray soul, weeping inside as I read your words.]
