Need For Comfort?

I will tell you a secret. Don’t tell anyone. Want to hear? Come closer. Shhh.

I like to write stories.

GASP!

They’re not serious or professional stories. Some of them are created with my sims game. But one thing that is common for many of them is the characters, whether I made them up or they’re from another series, tend to be given tragedies.

For example, some time ago, I started a new legacy in my game. However, after enjoying another challenge, I changed the character from namelessly starting alone to having left her home with her little sister due to sexual abuse and now having to support herself and sister while homeless.

All of these types of stories end happily, but I wonder why I write this way. Some of my characters’ pasts, such as the one I described above, are truly horrid. In real life, they’d require years of therapy, possibly a lifetime, whereas in my stories, they require little more than having support from close friends and a shoulder to cry on periodically.

I’m not sure where this comes from, but I feel like part of the reason is I myself don’t have anybody I can count on in the way I allow my characters. I don’t have someone who understands my mind and thoughts. I don’t have someone I can be certain to receive support from, whether I’m hurting or I’m struggling to decide something. And I wish I did.

Rarely are these stories intentionally written this away. They are not my first idea, which is why I further believe they’re basically a manifestation of my desire for comfort and support, and lacking it.

I do the same with actual people. When I imagine myself telling someone about a problem I have, I typically imagine them understanding or being supportive to some extent, despite knowing in actuality, they’d be anything but. I believe people tend to subconsciously fantasize positively, whether or not they know ahead of time what the real outcome will be.

Even a minor character in a story I write can have a depressing history, as in one of my stories for an original character I made based on my favorite series. The minor character talks the main one out of suicide by telling about how she overcame her past and the sole reason she has that past is to serve as tool to prevent the protagonist from dying. The minor character is completely random. She will likely never appear in any future story, yet I gave her a huge, tragic history for the sole purpose of being able to relate to someone else.

I am not sure if this healthy or not. Obviously, it’s much better than pushing myself toward unsupportive people and forming false attachment, but it also makes me think my mind is ill, as this doesn’t seem normal.

I hate humanity, part 2

On Tumblr, this post of safety tips came across my blog. Most of the tips are about avoiding getting murdered in a car. And it makes me think, “Why have a car in the first place?”

Seriously. If I have to be afraid of being killed because I sit idle in my car for more than a second, why even own one in the first place?

The post even lists stairwells as being fatal places. Great, so I’ve got to worry about being mugged and murdered just because I want to use my legs a little more. That’s just freakin’ lovely.

I’m sorry, but if anything, this list is a good damn reason to commit suicide. Why would anyone want to live in such an incredibly dangerous world? Why would anyone want to bring more people into this indescribably horrific world? And no, the wonders of the world and the little things do not make up for this. The beauty of a daisy will not revive a murdered person.

I don’t care how awful I may be for saying this, but the human race as a whole needs to die. This post basically means merely being alive is dangerous, and if one’s life is in constant danger just from living it, why even have it? The human race is the worst species in existence.