Enh, not really. I mean, the first few years after I became a hikikomori were kinda alright, I suppose. If for nothing else, then purely for the sense of freedom & release it offered me from not having to be part of the rest of the world any longer (at least in a direct physical sense, that is). I certainly wasn't happy. More just.....a middling sense of somewhat consistent contentment. Not to mention, that my hobbies still held some shred of appeal back then, so there's also that. Unfortunately, like everything else in this accursed life, it was all just a passing novelty. The same emptiness, dissatisfaction and general malaise that's followed me for essentially my whole life came slowly, but surely, slinking back into frame. Just as if it had never left in the first place. And that's mostly because, by & large, it didn't. If I had to describe this imposition, this wretched life I've led in it's entirety it would be this. A grueling, grind into the grave. No happiness. No joy. No especially fond memories. Just watching the fucking clock tick by, second by second, for nearly 27 god damn years. I can recall vividly my memories as a child about the enticing allure of death and how much I just wanted to get hit by a fucking car as I was crossing the various streets on my way to school. And yet here I sit, so many years later, still wishing for the same thing. It hurts just thinking about it, frankly.
