Short-Story: Theories of advanced escapism

„You’re quiet tonight“, I said to my date, a no longer in use keyboard piano with a wig and a leather jacket that strangely looked better on it than it did on me. Clearly, I have gone off the deep end. I’ve gone mad. Bananas. Nuts. Crazy. I’ve lost it.

Being in isolation should be perfect. There is really not that much of a difference to how much contact I have to people otherwise.

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I learned that I have worth and everything is worse now

Feeling worthless is bad, it really is. Yet, now that I have learned that I am not worthless and in fact lovable, everything is worse. It’s rather simple:

You see, quite some time ago when I felt like a worthless piece of shit, I was comfortable in my own terrible-ness. There was no one that could have blamed me for not going after my dreams, for not asking out my crush, since there was no point in doing that, anyway.

It was out of my hand. It wasn’t my fault that I didn’t try and that was a comfortable place to be.

Then I did the reasonable thing: I had therapy and I got better. Now, however, I know that I am not worthless and that I am lovable. As a result, now there are no excuses to not go after my dreams or ask out my crushes. Failure is my own fault. There are a thousand ways I could do this right and not doing it is actually the one way to do it wrong.

Nobody told me that by becoming healthy there would be a whole new world of things to be afraid of.

But that’s why you’re here: This advice-site will not help you with feeling better, it will distract you from that reality with little anecdotes and advice that is as unhelpful as it is crazily convoluted.

Have fun here!

(This was the original post of the Garry website)

Short-Story: Harry Hopeless, DJ

The extraordinarily hopeful fairytale of Harry Hopeless, DJ by profession

It was an evening like any other for Harry. Flickering lights and loud noises set the scene, as he observed the ecstatic crowd motionlessly. Why he had become a DJ – that was a question he was asked very often, after all, everyone was a marketing expert these days and wanted to give a nifty piece of advice.

While his real name was James Croe, he had been looking for a „cool stage-name“ for his DJ career and finally decided on Harry Hopeless. A childhood friend, who had tried in vain to talk him out of this idea, had explained that he was killing everyone’s mood with this. Indeed, the slogan that appeared under Harry’s name on his website didn’t give much hope either: The name is the game. And the game sucks, too.

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