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Count to a million


DubWolf

CTAM after 1 million  

183 users have voted

  1. 1. What should happen after 1 million is reached?

    • Start over at 1
      27
    • Keep counting to infinity (count to the next million(s))
      101
    • Count back down to 1 (then back up)
      51
    • Other (pm or mention if you'd like)
      14


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233'682

 

Chaos, you need help, like seriously. I'm sorry, but you should not be thinking like this. You've worried us all sick.

Edited by Raritas
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233.685

 

Remember when I told you, friends need a lot to bring me to get annoyed? Saying you kill yourself is definitly over the line. Do you know how pissed off I am from people telling me they tried/want to kill themselves because life sucks? Mayby it was me who stopped that. I hate to get into conversations like that, then Ialways try my best to stop that. I get myself mad and depressed to help another one to not do that. Ihate that, even thinking about it to do, I get sick. life is shit, I know that too good, but it brings nothing to kill yourselve. I may never could do that. Because I have hope ... hope everything will end good to me. And even when not, I had the good memories to remember. So please, never, NEVER ANY OF YOU, eventhink to do that, okay? You my friends, your all people, not mindless idiots who can end their live like that ...

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233689

 

When things are bothering me, I think about what my mom says.

"If this is the worst thing to EVER happen to you, then you've had a pretty great life."

Usually it puts things back into perspective.

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233688

 

 

Nothing, really. I've just challenged myself to be faster and faster over time. I'm an accountant so being faster with a 10-key would be more advantageous to me than a standard keyboard, though it is nice that I can type out a whole two paragraph email in a minute or two.

 

I think I got really fast in college when I ditched my paper notebooks for MS OneNote. I learned that I could type faster than I could write. So I took my laptop to class. Next thing I knew, I was doing phenomenally better because there weren't many points I missed.

 

So to answer your question, nothing currently requires me to type this fast. But college did require me to type that fast if I wanted to make the marks I expected of myself :)

That makes sense, I remember my dad saying that in college he was paid by others to type their reports :lol:

 

233###

 

stop what telling the truth 

 

no one would even be sad if i died 

We would chaos, we're your friends, and if you're sad, we'll be sad with you, and if you die?

 

You are a part of all of us, because we love you.

So don't hurt yourself, if you have a problem, we'll always be here to talk with you and try to help.

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233.693

 

I know you have that illness, but you never, since I know you, gone so far. You then only said, you feel sad, or you need time to think, but never said, you kill yourselve. I'm a funny guy and can laugh about things, but suicide is going over my borderline. But now let's talk about something else, I want to enjoy my sunday

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233'698

 

It's funny, in the very first post by Wolfie he said no Personal life problems... I think that rule broke a long time ago  :P But oh well, moving on. 

 

Here's a duck.

 

Duck_on_stage_S2E07.png

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233703

 

I apologize to anyone in advance who may be offended by the language I am about to use. IRL, I have the mouth of a sailor. Always have.

 

I dealt with some heavy shit when I was a kid. I was very depressed probably between the ages of 13 to probably right before my 21st birthday. And I still struggle with depression (though not to the extent that it was when I was younger). I wanted to kill myself so many times, I lost count. I hated every fiber of my very existence. I had dealt with an abusive father who forced me to work for money so he could take it all from me and support his drug habit. My mother wouldn't just fucking leave him, and I resented her for it. I love her more than she can know, but I resent her for never leaving that loser. My father was a damn good father when he was actually being a dad, but those instances were few and far between.

 

Now I was always spanked when I was a child. I was also given timeout a lot. That involved standing in the corner. And no, my age had nothing to do with it. What I did had everything to do with it. And it wasn't no namby pamby five minutes. Sometimes I'd have to stand there for an hour. And I was always told to think about what I did that was wrong and why it was wrong. I guess that's why I'm such a thinker these days. But when I was 7, my father became especially violent with me for the first time (or at least as far as I can remember). I don't even remember what I did. I think I dropped something and it broke. But I remember what he did. Vividly. Even 15 years later...He grabbed me by my face, his hands larger than it...He lifted me up by my face and slammed me by my head against a wall. It was the first time I had dealt with fear...real fear...that I could cease to live. This happened throughout my childhood. I was beaten time and again for little things because my father was a drug addict. And it wasn't just physical. It was mental, too. He'd sit you down for 2 or 3 hours and go on a tirade about how he's so much better than you. How much of a worthless piece of fucking shit you are. He did this to me. He did this to my mother. He did this to my brother. And I saw no escape. No hope. I wanted to end it all. 

 

I learned to hate myself.

 

I learned that I was fucking worthless.

 

Every fucking ounce of me wanted to die. 

 

Now, I never cut myself because I didn't want anyone to know there was something wrong with me. That if you could really read me, you'd know I didn't have a will to live anymore. I was constantly being pulled from school to go work in fields only to keep fueling my father's drug habit. So I wasn't doing well there. Mostly D's and F's. Not like they cared that they were destroying any hope I had to be an educated man. All they cared about was that I was pulling in money so they could put another fucking needle in their arms. And even though I've forgiven them, it makes me angry to this day to think about it. 

 

When I was 15, I was taken from that situation and put in a foster home. You'd think that would cause my life to do an immediate 180, and in a sense, it did. But it didn't change immediately. I still wanted to die. I was always looking for subtle ways to make it happen, though. I was nothing like my brother who was actually cutting himself. I kept it a secret. I kept a journal of my thoughts. It helped to express the angst I held in me. It still wasn't entirely enough. I hated life. I had no hope left. The thought that someone could ever care for me? Who the hell was I to be loved? I still didn't want to let it out to other people what I was dealing with. The very last thing on my list is to be a burden to someone else. So I wanted to make it look like an accident. 

 

But something held on. I don't know what it was. Something in me was telling me that it would get better. So I powered through the pain. When I turned 16, my fosters got me a standard Fender acoustic guitar. Then things started to turn around. I could better express myself through my music. Learning was a pain in the ass but I got better. I wrote songs to express the horrible things I was going through. I just let it out. I played for anywhere from 4 to 8 hours at a time or until my fingers bled. I kept my songs in a notebook in a shoebox under my bed. 

 

I think I was around 20 when I felt like I had conquered a demon. But those songs under my bed...they still held something I couldn't let go. I knew I couldn't keep them around. So I grabbed a lighter. I filled a coke bottle with gasoline. I drove my car out to the hole where we burn our trash. I soaked the shoebox in gasoline and burned it. I haven't played any of those songs since. And I don't plan on it. 

 

That guitar saved my life. I still have it to this day. And even if it breaks, I'll keep it. That guitar is my best friend. It has carried me through the darkest part of my life. I guess you could say it helped me hold on to the little fire of hope I had been given, nurtured it to a flame, and it began to blaze.

 

I still deal with things. Really big things. I do my best to hold them back because I know no matter how bad things get, if I work to be something better, I can achieve it. If I can come from being a total failure to a college honor grad, there isn't much I can't do. 

 

I guess, at the end of the day, you don't let go of hope, no matter how small it is. You strive to be better because you know you can do better. If you were only put here to off yourself in the end, you wouldn't have been here to begin with. And all the people who loved you and cared about you in life? What of them? I didn't want to be a burden to the people I loved, but if I offed myself, I would have become an even bigger burden. When I took a step back, I realized just how selfish I was being. 

 

It's a place I escaped (barely). And it's a place I hope to will never visit again

 

There's something to hope for. Sometimes, you just need to do a little looking.

Edited by Spaced Out Woona
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