Katawa Shoujo Forums

I just read the last chapter of Cutter before this. Doomish, please don't stop writing, I'm really digging this universe that you're building.

There seems to be no end to the suffering in your universe. Will there ever be true peace?

Even the toughest of hearts have to break sometime.

The next chapter will probably be coming tonight. There's been a horrible storm brewing in my mind, finishing Cutter brought back some unpleasant memories to the surface. I suppose I should share a little about myself at least SOMETIME, so you can get an idea of why I am who I am. Don't bother reading this unless you want a little insight on why all of my stories contain a part of myself, it's really not necessary; but anyway, here goes:

It all started when I was fifteen years old. I was in Michigan with my grandparents, visiting some cousins and aunts and uncles of mine. While we were there, one day my mother called me and told me that she and my father didn't love each other anymore. She said he wouldn't be there when we got back and she didn't know where he was going. I was absolutely crushed, up until that point my dad had been my hero. I went back to the house in silence, stricken with a feeling I couldn't quite place, one that would haunt me for a very, very long time. Come to find out, my mother cheated on my father and then had the gall to kick him out of his house. Still haven't forgiven her for that.

Fast forward to a year later. My depression had only grown in the year I'd been sent back and forth between parents every week. I didn't tell either of them, I couldn't. They had problems of their own that far outscored mine in terms of pain. I got beat up at school regularly, taunted for my living situation, my lack of a girlfriend, anything the horrible leeches and sheep could get their hands on. I lost a few teeth to a bully and I decided that was enough. For the next week, I didn't go to school, and my mother said she was going to sign me up for a therapist. That night, while she was out shopping and I was alone, I sat in the shower for an hour and a half, and I brought a small knife to my wrist with the intention of cutting out my woes.

Not only did it make me feel worse, it hurt. Bad. To this day I don't know if I "did it wrong" or if I just couldn't take it, but it bled and it bled and I felt something in my mind break. Like Hanako in Cutter, I didn't bother to ease myself into it and it went horribly wrong. Don't ever cut yourself, folks, it's a lot of pain worth a lot of nothing and it won't make you feel any better. My childhood innocence, or lack thereof, had left me for good. I wallowed in my depression for another week or so; I didn't try to hide the one or two scars that were forming, there was no point in it. My therapy sessions started, and things didn't get much better. Pills were prescribed, illnesses treated. But none of it worked for long.

One day, my therapist assigned me some homework. He told me that I needed help with solving my problems with my identity. He told me I needed to find something I liked to do and stick with it until I had an idea of what I wanted to be when I grew up.

So I wrote. I wrote out my woes, sealing them all up in a fanfiction called Portal 2: Aftermath, my very first book-length feature.

A year later and I'm still horribly depressed, but I'm in control of it now. I feel constantly tired; my chest hurts like it's going to break right out of my ribcage at any moment. I don't know what's wrong with me, but as soon as I get a good night's sleep I start thinking like a manic depressive and then I feel like doing nothing until I've sufficiently deprived myself again. I get, what, three hours of sleep a night, and that's all I need to function normally. Pills mean nothing to me. I take my share of them every morning and every afternoon but all they do is keep me from falling back into my old self. I've stopped going to see my therapist because he told me that he figured I'd made enough progress to continue on my own once I'd shown him Aftermath.

So, there you go. That's me. Unfortunate as it is, all I can do is let myself seep out into my characters, like Hanako in Cutter or Hisao in With Apologies, until I have nothing left of myself but a cold shell. I'm fine with that; I want to forget who I was in the past, what I did to myself. I want to be a new person, a new person capable of being happy, and I'm slowly getting back to that. My fanfiction has helped me more than it will likely help anyone else. I enjoy writing, and I want to do it for a professional living someday, but for now, I write fanfiction to keep myself in check. If I don't, I'll still be fine, but I do what I like and I like what I do, and that's all I can really say on the matter.

So, yes, someday, when I've written a story centered around each of the girls (With Apologies was about Hisao), and then one final fanfiction to tie it all together, then there will be peace. All the characters have to do is stick it out until I get there, whenever it may happen.

Doomish wrote:Even the toughest of hearts have to break sometime.

The next chapter will probably be coming tonight. There's been a horrible storm brewing in my mind, finishing Cutter brought back some unpleasant memories to the surface. I suppose I should share a little about myself at least SOMETIME, so you can get an idea of why I am who I am. Don't bother reading this unless you want a little insight on why all of my stories contain a part of myself, it's really not necessary; but anyway, here goes:

It all started when I was fifteen years old. I was in Michigan with my grandparents, visiting some cousins and aunts and uncles of mine. While we were there, one day my mother called me and told me that she and my father didn't love each other anymore. She said he wouldn't be there when we got back and she didn't know where he was going. I was absolutely crushed, up until that point my dad had been my hero. I went back to the house in silence, stricken with a feeling I couldn't quite place, one that would haunt me for a very, very long time. Come to find out, my mother cheated on my father and then had the gall to kick him out of his house. Still haven't forgiven her for that.

Fast forward to a year later. My depression had only grown in the year I'd been sent back and forth between parents every week. I didn't tell either of them, I couldn't. They had problems of their own that far outscored mine in terms of pain. I got beat up at school regularly, taunted for my living situation, my lack of a girlfriend, anything the horrible leeches and sheep could get their hands on. I lost a few teeth to a bully and I decided that was enough. For the next week, I didn't go to school, and my mother said she was going to sign me up for a therapist. That night, while she was out shopping and I was alone, I sat in the shower for an hour and a half, and I brought a small knife to my wrist with the intention of cutting out my woes.

Not only did it make me feel worse, it hurt. Bad. To this day I don't know if I "did it wrong" or if I just couldn't take it, but it bled and it bled and I felt something in my mind break. Like Hanako in Cutter, I didn't bother to ease myself into it and it went horribly wrong. Don't ever cut yourself, folks, it's a lot of pain worth a lot of nothing and it won't make you feel any better. My childhood innocence, or lack thereof, had left me for good. I wallowed in my depression for another week or so; I didn't try to hide the one or two scars that were forming, there was no point in it. My therapy sessions started, and things didn't get much better. Pills were prescribed, illnesses treated. But none of it worked for long.

One day, my therapist assigned me some homework. He told me that I needed help with solving my problems with my identity. He told me I needed to find something I liked to do and stick with it until I had an idea of what I wanted to be when I grew up.

So I wrote. I wrote out my woes, sealing them all up in a fanfiction called Portal 2: Aftermath, my very first book-length feature.

A year later and I'm still horribly depressed, but I'm in control of it now. I feel constantly tired; my chest hurts like it's going to break right out of my ribcage at any moment. I don't know what's wrong with me, but as soon as I get a good night's sleep I start thinking like a manic depressive and then I feel like doing nothing until I've sufficiently deprived myself again. I get, what, three hours of sleep a night, and that's all I need to function normally. Pills mean nothing to me. I take my share of them every morning and every afternoon but all they do is keep me from falling back into my old self. I've stopped going to see my therapist because he told me that he figured I'd made enough progress to continue on my own once I'd shown him Aftermath.

So, there you go. That's me. Unfortunate as it is, all I can do is let myself seep out into my characters, like Hanako in Cutter or Hisao in With Apologies, until I have nothing left of myself but a cold shell. I'm fine with that; I want to forget who I was in the past, what I did to myself. I want to be a new person, a new person capable of being happy, and I'm slowly getting back to that. My fanfiction has helped me more than it will likely help anyone else. I enjoy writing, and I want to do it for a professional living someday, but for now, I write fanfiction to keep myself in check. If I don't, I'll still be fine, but I do what I like and I like what I do, and that's all I can really say on the matter.

So, yes, someday, when I've written a story centered around each of the girls (With Apologies was about Hisao), and then one final fanfiction to tie it all together, then there will be peace. All the characters have to do is stick it out until I get there, whenever it may happen.

I'm truly sorry to hear your story. As a big fan of your writing, I'll be praying for your recovery and wellbeing. Keep doing what you are doing, I really enjoy your stories. Kudos to you, sir.

Oh, believe me, there's no recovery to be done. Like Hanako, I've learned to cope with what happened to my psyche and I ended up a better person from it, hence why she seems to have moved on so far in Little Faith. This is where she differs from me, however, as I'm fairly certain I don't warp around to different versions of reality throughout the day.

Doomish wrote:Oh, believe me, there's no recovery to be done. Like Hanako, I've learned to cope with what happened to my psyche and I ended up a better person from it, hence why she seems to have moved on so far in Little Faith. This is where she differs from me, however, as I'm fairly certain I don't warp around to different versions of reality throughout the day.

Great to know I am eagerly awaiting your next chapter!

I'm sorry to hear about your earlier situation, but I'm glad to hear that things have improved.

I think apologizing for your situation beforehand would be both impersonal and...well, not very meaningful. You've certainly got my sympathy, but I don't think it matters much to you (and it really shouldn't, since the cutting is not something to be proud of). And you obviously already know that you've grown, so there's no need to point it out...

But I find it very admirable that what you're trying to do is...well, what it is. A goal to make peace for yourself, so to speak (from what I gathered). I wish you all the luck in the world, and I'll probably stick around to see whatever you do come up with (and likely still enjoy it).

On another note, good chapter.

Any attempt at consolation or apology from a stranger on the internet (i.e. me in your eyes) is bound to come off as insincere or simply ineffective. So rather than express my feelings toward what you did when you were younger, I'd like to express my feelings toward what you've managed to do as an outlet for all of those feelings.

Basically, your work is fantastic and inspiring, and I don't mean that in a Hallmark Card sort of way. Your work (Cutter, With Apologies, Little Faith) has been a continuing inspiration as I've plugged away at my own stories. I figure it's worth knowing that, if nothing else, your writing is definitely making a difference to some of us.

TLDNR: This story is awesome.

My condolences, however useless they may be. I cannot relate to your experiences, but I think I understand how difficult it must have been. That must sound silly.

However, if it's any consolation, your fiction is great, however bleak the inspiration is.

Forget it.

Too good doomish, I was hooked with 'With Apologies...' now I'm hooked with this. Loving the sci-fi flavour to the story.

Great, but...

He unfortunately did. The scene flashed again in his mind like he was replaying it in a visual novel.

...Really?

Another great chapter.

On a less serious note, I have the stupid habit of reading the italicized author notes in this voice.

Minor nitpick:

He doubted the scratches on his back would go away anytime soon as he lielay next to her.

I realize some people comsciously write "anytime" as two words, but it feeld wrong to me.