NevelioKrejall

I didn’t get to come out. My mom’s piece of shit boyfriend invaded my privacy, went through my bedroom and computer, then showed my mom my private journal and browser history. She then outed me to everyone in my family and at her church as a way to get sympathy for herself. She pulled me out of the school where I had just been elected student body VP and switched me to one closer to home so she could have more control over where I went. She took away my computer, pawned it and kept the money for herself. She did her best to cut me off from everyone supportive in my life, though the courts forced her to let me see my dad. She told me I was possessed by the devil. I was basically imprisoned in my own home, only allowed to go to church and to shitty Christian “therapy” until I turned 18 and moved out.

This was my favorite game as a kid. Doing fan-art and a D&D campaign about it for years got me hired on as an artist for the new one! It’s gonna be wild.

Mine isn’t this bad, but I can relate to the first-day-on-Adderall thing. It was wild when I walked into my messy bathroom an hour after that first dose and my brain just went: “It is possible, even reasonable for you to clean this bathroom, in a finite amount of time, without every moment filling you with dread. This task will not consume your whole life day.” My brain had simply never done that before. I could just choose to do something and–perhaps more importantly–to stop doing something. I remember I was hyperfixating working on a hobby project at 11 PM on a work night and my brain went: “If you stop working now, brush your teeth and go to bed, this fun project will still be here for you to work on tomorrow. You don’t have to keep at it until 6 AM and then go to work without sleeping.” That seemed like such a foreign concept at the time. It was weird to hear that from my own brain, not in a “you’re being bad” way, but in a “it’s going to be okay” way. There was a lot of happy crying those first few weeks.

Just wish I’d been diagnosed in college instead of in my mid-30s. I might have graduated.

People like to throw around the word ‘lazy’ but it’s more like I can’t turn it on OR off unless I’m medicated. Once I’m in the zone I will work until I grow a beard, then wither away, then my crumbling skeleton grows a beard. It would be a powerful thing if I could aim it.

If I’m not the farmer?

I would follow a pre-scripted path depending on the day of the week and season, and refuse to accept more than two gifts. I would be a romance option, but the annoying kind that stays inside most of the time so it’s hard to build rapport.

For extra credit, I would post ads inexplicably asking for someone to bring me a topaz to rub on my sore knees.