Никита Капернаумов - 2018: Истероидный инцел и сталкер

Apart from that, there are other obstacles.

I’ve called these four (for a six-million-people city) consultation centres today, two were busy (and they are known for ever lacking available times for a consultation, and also they are female-staffed and I need to speak to a male doctor), and the other two: the first begins to list at the end of the month and that will be for March or April I guess, and the second I’ve got to call them on Thursday morning and maybe they’ll have an available time for next week. The last one is that which I wrote about and they offer these cheap $20 consultations also, so I’ll try to arrange one if on Thursday they don’t have any for free.

I wasn’t abused in my childhood any worse than the average child. All my mates back at school and kindergarten were raised by hysterical mothers, and also were beaten and reproached for bad behaviour and grades and all that. They are, of course, all no-lifers now (judging by photos), but they are not hysterical and neurotic like I am and have ever been. Never did I see them crying, nor they were so obsessed with sex and girls like I was, nor were they so envious and so perfectionistic, or so anxious over the matter of physical pain, death and dying. They liked fighting-schools, all that mortal combat stuff, and other male hobbies, and they now live in my home **** of a town, and are fully content there. When my mum went to that town in the summer of 2016 she met one of my schoolmates and she said everything was still the same with him: he was basking at the beach in the company of his mum and grandmums like back at 2002. I can’t bear such infantility.

No one of the guys ended up developing an OCD issue, dropping out of school at so young age, and being an internet pervert and freak.

I was more neurotic than others from the very beginning. I am neurotic by genes (everyone on my mother’s side was neurotic and hysterical) and because of some experience in the first two years of life. Bowlby explains it well, I’m now reading his another book, preparing to argue with the therapist if he should be another moron and not understand my situation and believe I have schizophrenic and psychotic issues.

The consultations are 50 minutes long, as I learned today. Now I wonder how to tell all my story in so short a time, maybe it’s better to write everything on a paper and give it to him to read.

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Of course I keep a journal, more than 1000 book-pages now, the bigger half of which I wrote through 2017.

>> Can I ask you why you think all of your previous therapists were morons?

Everyone becomes deaf to my explanation of the psychological reasons of my situation as soon as they get the information that I has already been diagnosed with some shizo-disrder in childhood. Especially it is true with therapists in govern mental-health institutions (to one of which I’m going again). No one is going to re-diagnose anything and try to treat me psychologically. They’ll tie me to a bunk and give neuroleptics, nothing more. I have taken neuroleptics, nothing changed, I still was envious, wanted girls and normal life, was very depressed in thoughts. Nothing changed except these things: I couldn’t cry tears, I had no will to do anything physically and I couldn’t piss unless I shat. But everybody, except myself, were, of course, satisfied: I was quiet and not dangerous.

I’m not going to any treatment, you take me wrong. I’m going to get a therapist’s recommendation to meet with Dasha in person, that’s all. I’ll record it on tape (dictaphone in my mobilephone in my pocket, or even openly) and I’ll send it to her so that she «consider the opportunity of meeting with me» at long last.

The fact that I met with that girl ( – целуйтаня – ) for money in 2011 and got rid of the gnawing desire to experience kiss and intimacy and for a whole week felt like I was another man, and now can resort to the remembrance of the smile she gave me after we had parted (she turned smiling and waved hand to me, although she could well not turn and go away), along with the fact that I’ve ever become happier whenever I got the thing I’d been wanting badly – all this will be my arguments for the advisability to meet with her. I’ve been obsessed with this desire since I lost money and with it all the hopes for other things. Even before that, to meet with Dasha had been becoming the most desired thing to do in life, and after the ruin of everything else it really became most desired. She has become kind of mystery to me, representing, posessing and having expirienced all the things I haven’t had and am not going to. I cannot stand it that I’m being denied such a trifle as to see and know her in person, it torments me more and more.

As for getting a job, there are many obstacles, but the main one is this: I’m not going to spend my lifetime earning money to treat myself for issues for developing of which I was not responsible (this is applicable to any issues, psychological and physical). And I even don’t blame my parents for doing nothing, as long as social awareness of psychology and psychiatry is at so undevelopped a stage there is no one and nothing to blame, it’s just that I’m unlucky. To spend life on treating problems with body and mind just doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t like to have a human body, don’t like to live this life. Let the issues kill me, I don’t mind.

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No delusions, everything is explanable and clarifiable. It’s just that it’s easier for a little interested doubter to state his position once more and leave the matter at that. Therapists, unless you pay them well, are such persons and I don’t wan

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Writing about my experience of suffering from a mental disorder, reading other’s stories.

I didn’t say I refuse treatment. I said I refuse to earn money for it. Even to spend, to spend such money on it. I would gladly go for fun (I don’t have any proof of their ability to mend me, so I consider it only for fun) to some shrink for free. But I’ve described what is offered to me for free: turning me into a vegetable with neuroleptics, no psychologist’s talking. I wouldn’t ever give $50—100 to a human being for 50 minutes of talking. $5 is the average one hour’s pay in my city. Let them ask $5 for a session and I will consider going to them sometimes.

Moreover, I’ve stated that I’m going for one or a couple of consultations, even if don’t get it for free and it costs $20. Nothing prevents the therapist from proving to me that his talking is able to give me what I want, to get my youth, money and all back.

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Зовут Никита, почти 25 лет, проживаю в Петербурге, страница эта новая, создал специально для знакомств, но настоящая, ничего я тут не вру, есть видео и фото и т. д. Более двадцати лет я мечтаю иметь подругу с которой была бы взаимная симпатия и близость, но ничего не было.

Не видя возможности никак больше знакомиться (почему – ниже описываю), до сегодня я рассылал девушкам предложения погулять со мной за небольшие деньги, но никто не соглашался и кроме того говорили что я страдаю хернёй и надо писать нормально, ну вот я и решил писать что-то вроде нормального «можно ли с вами познакомиться», которое я воспринимаю куда более глупым.

Хоть слов запас мой очень мал,

Решил я, всё же, представление,

Чтоб я вам нудным не предстал,

Оборотить в стихотворенье.

Из Питера, Никита звать

Годов мне скоро двадцать пять

Страницу новую специально

Создал знакомиться нормально.

Больше чем двадцать лет мечтал

Иметь красивую подругу

Близость, симпатию друг к другу.

Без этого не понимал

В чём смысл жизнь жить никогда

И депрессивный был всегда.

До сей поры, за что не видя,

Я девушек, гулять просить

Никак не мысля их обидеть

За встречи предлагал платить. ( – последние 4 стрчки не вяжутся окончаниями, я тут помоему онегинскую строфу просто пробовал – )

За семь последних горьких лет

Одна лишь не сказала нет

С ней погулял я и с тех пор

От девушек один укор

Страдаю говорят хуйнёй

Вот я решил писать нормально

Без моего нытья, формально

Хоть глупой, той ещё фигнёй

Такое я воспринимаю.

Подробнее дальше объясняю.

Я склонность с ранних лет имел

Увлечься тем что как-то странно

То ехать в США хотел

То спать в обнимку с игуаной

То одержим был стать спортсменом

Гимнастом, профи прям, как Немов.

Вторым Шекспиром быть мечтал

При том что инглиш я не знал

С причудой вобщем, обессивный

Мечтал о чём-то нереальном

И был во всём всегда провальным

Как я сказал, стал депрессивным.

Мне бросить школу разрешили

И шизо-что-то-там пришили.

Расстройство вобщем увлечений

В тринадцать лет засел я дома

За странной музыки твореньем

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Страница новая, да, создал специально для знакомств. Имя возраст, фото, всё настоящие.

Я до этого 8 лет писал с сотни других страниц тысячам девушек, просил погулять, а чаще пообниматься, со мной за деньги (смог это купить только один раз в 2011, с тех пор с вживую с девушками контактов не было). Но мне все говорили я занимаюсь хуйнёй, лучше бы знакомился нормально. Так и быть, я впервые решил пописать девушкам обычное «можно познакомиться?». Только на мой взгляд вот это и есть настоящая хуйня, писать кому-то кого не знаешь, с кем ничего общего, кого интересна только внешность. На мой взгляд знакомство обыкновенное это постепенный переход на личности в ходе совместной деятельности не связанной с личным. А знакомство в интернете или все эти пикапы, это форсированное, животное. Даже не животное, а именно вот это современное, когда всё автоматизированно, потребностей в физически коллективной деятельности у людей всё меньше, все разошлись по своим кельям в 20ти этажных муравейниках.