Coupla things to respond to here.

@ Mr Gibson -- I am a student of computers, not of the mind. I prefer to tinker with things that can safely be turned off and back on again ;) namely technology. Also, I'm aware of the mess that is inpatient psychiatry, and I was not and would not be recommending that.

@ Lyberta -- I'll just say that I don't think it's any healthier to be wanting to kill other people than it is to be wanting to kill yourself. Somehow that doesn't fit my definition of 'normal'. But that's me -- and I don't want to, you know, tell you how to think. Not my job. So I'll drop this for now, except to say that pills can do you a world of good if you let them.

@ everyone -- sorry for the thread derailment. Not my intent.

On Mon, Apr 24, 2017 at 8:10 AM, Lyberta <lyberta@lyberta.net> wrote:
Luke Kenneth Casson Leighton:
>  i have a wise friend who very kindly gave me a definition of stress.
> he said it's when people make a comparison between the external
> (perceived) world and their internal view, cannot cope with the
> difference... and seek to blame the EXTERNAL world.  "i hate your
> tie!!  yesss... it's the *tie's* fault!" :)

When I was 10 or 11 years old, it became obvious to me that the only way
from this hell is to kill my classmates and teachers. If I will kill
myself, they will laugh at my corpse, if I will kill them, I will laugh
at their corpses and their parents will be busy grieving to laugh at me.
I will win. They will lose.

When I went to school I had to deal with classmates and teachers, when I
went home I had to deal with my parents. The hell never ended, it never
took a break. But I kept repeating "I will kill them, I will kill them".
Every day. From dawn to dusk. And it became my only salvation, my only
hope, my only purpose of life. With each day I was more determined. I've
always wondered my no one else did this, it was so obvious. I didn't
know about Columbine High massacre at that time.

And it was cast in stone. I'm killing them. But how to get a gun? Oh,
that turned to be hard. But I understood, I am a terrorist now. I need
to think and act as a terrorist. Any person can report myself to law
enforcement. Everyone is my potential enemy. I need to never tell anyone
any personally identifiable information, anything that can cast
suspicion. I became very paranoid. Naturally, when I've found free
software movement which promised software without malicious features,
without surveillance, I immediately recognized its immense value to my
mission.

As I grew older, my mental notebook of people I should kill has expanded
exponentially. Now it contains several billions of people. The largest
group being all religious people. And they've built a church near my
home! I should thank them for building a murder scene solely for me, now
I don't have a difficult choice of where to go on a killing spree.

But my brain had a very nasty surprise for me. I came out as transgender
to myself. Now I also can be killed for simply being LGBT. I don't mind
being killed after my killing spree because I'd have fulfilled my
purpose of life, but I mind being killed for simply being LGBT. They
will kill me and laugh at my corpse, just as if I'd kill myself. I will
lose. I don't want to lose, I have people to kill.

If you are a terrorist, no one will see it until you take your gun out
and start shooting. But if you are a guy in a dress, everyone will see
it, all this homophobic and transphobic society, all those punks who
hunt LGBT people for sport. I can't defend myself against a swarm
without a gun. Heh, a gun, what a recurring theme.

And so I quit my job, I've tried to kill myself again, I ended up in
psychiatric hospital. And they told me that I have a mental condition
and need to take pills for the rest of my life. Of course, I never told
anyone about wanting to kill people. I didn't want to lose.

But of course, no amount of pills will fix society so I kept being
hospitalized every few months. And I've tried different doctors,
different hospitals, paid and government funded. My family even needed
to ask friends for money so I can go in a paid hospital. But all they
could do is to give me pills. Fuckers.

But I never gave up. As long as I'm alive, I want to kill people. If I
get a gun and go on a killing spree, I would be the life worth living.

And as I write this, I see how thousands of intelligence agencies'
employees are carefully studying this letter, I see a police at my door,
locking me up. But I don't care, I will end up in a psychiatric hospital
again, for the countless time. I've spent years living in fear that
police will find me, but in the end I was the one who asked to be found.


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