The Golden Age is available again in RR. Why? Because I decided that I give a damn more about your enjoyment rather than... money. And to honor my now-deceased grandfather...
Essay: The Restoration of Mikhail Abat
Writing has been something special to me for years. I have gone through various episodes of depression, anxiety, and stress last year. This was due to a coordinated attack upon my psyche, a parasitic justification for someone’s social ladder, so they wouldn’t have to feel spineless about it.
I am Mikhail Abat. Born in Quezon City and raised in Baguio. I had a rather tough time growing up, having no friends, and having a family that didn’t understand me. I only gained a very few friends in my later years of elementary school or early years of high school, but that is it. I was bullied and spent a long time being ostracized due to a little thing called Autism Spectrum Disorder. I loved DC Comic Book movies, and I loved X-Men, but my whole life, I had been ostracized by Marvel fans. I loved things such as speaking English, since I had no friends, and TV taught me how to speak, and yet I was ostracized for that, yet again, due to the pathetic Filipino social stigma that English-speakers are apparently all snobs. And last year, I went through a tremendous amount of pain, misunderstandings, and social manipulation that was cleverly coordinated. I had spent my entire college life with a group of people that I had painfully realized were not good people, and the reasoning was that I was far too emotional, and they used my emotions against me. I confronted a person I fell for in a text, which was ultimately sad and pathetic, since I should have done this with physical presence. Alas, the person ended our friendship. I merely confronted her and my friends in some sort of class group chat for lying and deceiving without saying any names, but they took it as an attack on their social reputation. Though I do not understand why I am considered a villain for their constant ostracizing of me, I do understand that I must have broken some sort of social boundary. I thought it was a necessary step to stand up for myself, since I was not added to any private group chat of theirs at all, so the only way to properly contact them, so they would actually see my words was through the class group chat. Alas, there is a variable that I should have known, that there are other people, thus I did not share their names, but then again, they must have figured out who they were in an instant.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Regardless, the person I loved shared her side of the story, and everyone agreed it was the undeniable truth without asking my side. Why? I don’t know. But it sounded like it made the most sense; it must have. Again, I have no idea, since I wasn’t part of such a conversation. This is Social Assassination, and even people from other classes confronted me about what I had done, and when I stated my side, it made them pity me.
Their strongest argument, if you count it as one, is that my Autism Spectrum Disorder is an excuse that I use to get around doing whatever, which hurts. Because it isn’t. My autism is a part of who I am, and using it against me was the most disgusting, inhuman, and degrading thing possible. Anyway, one of them was sent to confront me about it. I panicked and cried, and I had a severe attack that lasted minutes and even had an episode, possibly dissociative or even psychotic. But alas, I was blocked thrice on Facebook, I don’t know HOW. But suddenly, my ability to message them was somehow stopped thrice, and my mother witnessed it while I was having the episode. I was so confused. Anyway, my mother and my Tita Mommyta took over the situation, and alas, I realized at the time I was still emotionally immature, and I needed to become stronger if someone who was sent by awful people could do so little and already do so much damage.
I spent the rest of the year after graduation making. I have a garden now. I accomplished having a garden, and it was nice. I have written a novel of 300,000 words about the situation, or at least navigating and trying to explain what happened to me. I managed to write palaces, though it was honestly nothing compared to what they did, but it’s something. Alas, humans are a fallible species, and they would do anything to protect their social pride and reputation over choosing basic human decency. I believed that, then my grandfather died at the end of the year.
My beloved grandfather, whom I saw as a father, had died, and I was so grief-stricken that I nearly returned to that dark state of mind, even had an episode in the kitchen. But I remain alive, so that is indeed something. My Lolo had always taught me to put kindness in front of everything else, and basic human decency is something I should enact while also achieving inner strength. Thus, I will continue doing so. Alas, there is no such thing as history except for the story of the victors who wrote it.
