3 minutes reading time
Fuck cleaning up my life—that's a total joke, ain't it? It's just an eternal dumpster fire of shitty choices piling up higher than my regrets, and I'm standing here deeper in the trash than I care to admit.
Haven't slept. Why bother? I'm doing this anyway, and the regret is incoming like a freight train, I guess.
My digital vomit is scattered everywhere like my brain on a bad day—bits of me on old domains, forgotten servers, and broken hard drives. Time to puke it all into one nasty pile—or at least try to organize the mess before I lose whatever sanity is left.
It started way back in 8th grade, 2006. No friends, just me and a notebook that doubled as my therapist. I argued with paper, poured my soul into cardboard bindings, and pretended the pages gave a shit. Pathetic as hell? Maybe. But it was better than treating people right—honestly, most of them deserved worse, didn't they?
Then this black hole hit during 11th and 12th. Stopped writing completely. I was being tortured by that physics bastard teacher and spending my days roaming on a Bullet with idiot neighbors—just drifting through humidity and stupidity, rotting away slowly while the world moved on.
College was its own special hell in 2008. Shithole engineering college, dumb kid professors who knew less than us, and a hostel that felt like a low-security jail. The water tasted like concrete from Coimbatore, and I hated every second of it—but I drank it anyway, calcifying my soul one bad decision at a time.
I was alone with morons, thirsty as fuck for something real. So I wrote to spew rage—just pure frustration vomit on the page.
By 2011, the pen was too slow for the noise in my head. Switched to typing screens. Became a cloud coward—hiding drafts like a scaredy-cat, screaming silently into the void.
It became a fragmented mess. Domains like myfirstattempt.com and subdomains that sound like cries for help: masturbation.deadrat.in, cry.deadrat.in. I blocked searches, craving eyes but shitting bricks if anyone actually saw the wreck inside.
Raw shit stays buried. No waivers for breakdowns. It’s a collateral damage graveyard—fuck, that is dark, isn't it?
So I'm merging the rest here. Public half-confessions, I suppose. Why am I even doing this? Oh well, damage done.
deadrat.in: One big dumpster. Retiring the subs, centralized wallowing in my own crap.
Same sad shit. Indexed now. Fuck it all.