DISCLAIMER!!! You're about to be put through nine pages of content all dedicated to dunking on a group of people, but mainly, the heart of the group. So, if reading is not your thing, then just what the heck are you doing here?
This was written over the months of April and May.
The first few paragraphs have been taken from DeviantArt.
Rockoff
Apr 6, 2025
Denzel and I'd been friends for two years before this occurrence. Before this, we'd distanced each other from February to August of the anterior calendar year, thanks to neither of us really talking to each other, nor having the desire to. Then, the third of August, Denzel crept into my DM's, asked me to join his server, and I, being the very susceptible - and bored - people-pleasing and good-intentioned fellow I was, gave in. Oboy.
The moment I opened his server's venting channel was when I realized he and the people he hung out with were TERRIBLE, and I mean TERRIBLE in the head. Downright HORRENDOUS. ATROCIOUS. BEYOND HELP.
I stayed since, back then, I felt I belonged in a group of losers like them, too. I had it bad with my mother anyway, so I had plenty to whine about. Like them! My pessimism back then made me appeal more to them, I feel.
The first few days were a blast! Aside from all the wrist-slashing announcements and suicide threats. Can't forget about those.
I was praised and beloved around there! Denzel liked my art, laughed at my jokes, and overall, didn't see me as a threat. I also seemed to had revived his server! I replied to everything from everyone regardless, and was bringing as much warmth to the environment as I possibly could.
What went wrong, though?
I know EXACTLY what went wrong! When, even! It was a December evening. A little earlier onto the year (A MONTH!), I'd become fixated on the works of Ryan Krzak.
Just so you get a gist on who he is, he is the man who made the hit unofficial animation for Weird Al's "Albuquerque".
That's not important, however. What IS important is that, whilst Denzel and I were playing Pony Town - an online game which I'd advise you NOT to come close to IN YOUR LIFE unless you want to end up with friends like mine - I came across a person who also admired Ryan's work. I then committed the "scummy" mistake of pushing him aside and spent AN ENTIRE HOUR talking to the other person. I think I'll call him Maple. Denzel then, after leaving in anger and desperation of me not speaking a word to him - because, frankly, my conversation with him was getting boring - went on Discord and decided to act like a fucking psychopath wishing the worst on poor Maple on his server's venting channel. He wished Maple'd end up in a fatal car accident. He perceived my new friend as a threat for certain. He wouldn't forgive me no matter what I did. Not that I could redeem myself either. I must agree that the turn-down part was pretty egotistical coming from me as well. I'm a human, and I experience remorse. I don't feel so bad about it anymore, considering that wanting someone to give attention to you and be in the middle of their scope all twenty-four hours of the day is manipulation. Following up the story, I'm sure he wept a couple tsunamis good enough wipe out the Northern Sentinel Islands, considering he's a sensitive and whiney little prick and cut his wrists so deep he must've hit bone and turned anemic. My fault, but, again, I don't feel a single ounce of bad about it after finding out forcing your only friends to be with you and you only was manipulation - a form of abuse! It was clear that the dude was trying to get me to feel like a bad person for having hobbies and wanting to have my own time. I wasn't, but, since he tried to get me to feel like I was by cutting himself and saying he distrusts even those close to him, he ended up getting me to have the wrong view of myself.
I continued to talk to Maple anyway because I wanted to get to know him better.
This is a bit spontaneous, but talking to him (Denzel) quite literally felt like this. I lived through this for seven months because the idea of thinking if him and his lousy, whiney loser friends were actually people worthy of my time never really crossed my mind.
"NO! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO GIVE ME EVERY SINGLE OUNCE OF ATTENTION YOU COULD POSSIBLY EVER DISH OUT!!! I'M AN UNDESIRABLE WHINEY DICKFACE AND I REFUSE TO INTERACT WITH ANYBODY ELSE BUT YOU AND MY CIRCLE OF MENTALLY UNSTABLE WUSSES!!! THEY'LL ALL HURT ME ANYWAY. EVERYONE I HAVE EVER INTERACTED WITH IN MY ENTIRE DEPLORABLE EXISTENCE HAS HURT ME. TALK TO ME OR I'LL ACTUALLY KILL MYSELF. I WILL DO IT. GIVE ME ATTENTION UNTIL WE'RE BOTH COMPLETELY DRAINED. AND DON'T DARE YOU MAKE A SINGLE NEW FRIEND!!! HELL, EVERYONE YOU KNOW DESERVES TO GET RAPED BY A HORDE OF FERAL BABOONS WITH HIV ONLY BECAUSE I SAY SO. FUCK HUMANITY!!! FUCK ME!!! I WANT TO DIE ALREADY!!!"
Funny how a good chunk of his problems were all generated by himself and his hostile and jerky behavior and he could easily fix them though wishes not to because he's deathly allergic to kindness.
The moment I figured out that in the middle of our playing and goofing off sessions I was restricted to talking only to him - as if I were his. Exactly, his as in belonging to him. His treatment towards me was both respectful and demeaning, but we'll dabble more on that later - my social anxiety levels absolutely SKYROCKETED. They magnified in the most unbelievable way possible. I want you to picture the 2008 house market crash but backwards for a second. That's how absurd my social anxiety spike was.
A month goes by. It's January of the vigent year, 2.025. I'm feeling absentminded and am not fully in control of my actions. Then, Martian, a friend of mine and Denzel drops by and I decide to strike up a conversation with her, because why the hell not. Denzel then bursts in just to bitch about the outcast he's treated as in every social situation he engages in. That was when I'd about had it. He was actually starting to fill me with a tooth-gritting and ear-steaming sense of rage. Henceforth, I decided to leave Martian to deal with this shitfest of a situation. But, since she was as tired of him as I was, she stopped talking as well for good. Denzel then began to have the most hilarious meltdown I'd ever seen happen on Discord. Trust me, if you were there, you would've laughed the filtered blood out of your kidneys. To my present self it's the funniest thing ever but to my past self it was exhausting.
That same night, Denzel thought having a heated argument with me, in which, in his words, wished that evening would be "his last" after I mentioned I wished he'd let me have a peaceful evening would be a genius idea. Well, if his intention was for me to chicken out and get away from him for as long as the next week lasted, he succeeded!
That week was, honestly, blissful. I was finally having fun for the first time after months of emotional draining. Honestly, I shouldn't have given Denzel a second opportunity after that week. I only came back because he and Martian were pressuring me into returning. I didn't return because something within me told me to. If anything, my heart was trying to tell me what I did was good, though all I could really hear from it was thumping.
It only got worse after I came back.
Not only was I terribly afraid of interacting with anybody who wasn't him - to the degree I'd have a panting fit and shit myself if he wasn't online - but I also felt like I'd lost my desensitivity towards his suicidal and harmful ideologies. Essentially, I became a lot more sensitive towards that type of commentary instead of trying to relate in a quirky and humorous manner. I don't actually want to kill myself.
Two months go by. It's March. Well, not right now, but it was once March. Everyone's having anything but a good day, and I fully blame Denzel for driving my day into a piping hot pile of cattle feces. I would've been having an okay day otherwise. How'd he do it? By running the conversation we were having across the devil's ass by mentioning he was home alone. What's the problem? It insinuated he'd be killing himself that moment, since there was no one around who could stop him. Not even me, since he would not listen to me when I told him that if he killed himself he'd die, and since I was fed up with him, I just let it unfold.
I left his server that day. Tragically, he popped into my messages just a few minutes later. What he had to say? "I'm never going to message you first ever again. I'm going to control you into starting the conversation yourself. See if I'm important enough for someone once in my pitiful existence and live in someone's head rent free". Ironically, he still kept beginning conversations with me himself. This is when he really started to get under my skin.
He started to turn exceedingly, abundantly obsessive, and I mean it. So obsessive not even him suffering from OCD and depression and a deviated septum or whatever could excuse it. He would not let go of me, not for love or money. I felt like he was forgetting that I was a human being as well, and that I wanted time no matter how many times or how obviously I hinted at that. I just wanted to be alone.
From this point forth, I begin to lose my cool. If you don't like to see people descend into insanity, I evince you to LEAVE!!!
Four days later, he messaged me the entire morning, awaiting instant responses to everything. It's as if he were hopelessly glued to his screen the entire morning, like he usually is, as he's said he possesses zero motivation to get up his ass and do anything whatsoever. At least he takes showers and brushes his teeth!
Well, as soon as I opened his messages, I'd realized I'd fucked shit badly by being a functional member of society; by attending school and nourishing myself with the lunch my mom had made, because, as soon as I went online, he began to scream at my face about how depressed he is and how much he hates it when I go on with my day-to-day business and don't pay attention to him or whatever, as per usual.
I, however, decided to take up his meltdown right up the arse, no matter how rough. I was enduring his whining in order to supposedly protect him, as I did not want him to get hurt. During said meltdown, my complaints about him yelling and being too whiney seemingly bounced off him as if he were only focusing on explosively shitting all over my day and nothing more. He would not listen. HE WOULD SIMPLY NOT LISTEN. So, in order to, what one could describe as cope, I decided to deflect the incessant yowling back at him just as bad as I was taking it. He did not care. HE ENTIRELY DID NOT CARE. My pleads for him to wind down MEANT JACKSHIT TO HIM.
It was a draining experience, for sure. All while he had some poor excuse for an attention-hooking phrase as his status: I'M GOING TO SMASH MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL. Doesn't that just scream "give me attention AS SOON AS YOU GET THE CHANCE or else I will do something bad to myself, yadda yadda yadda"? It was also evident that he was referring to me, to poor little me. I had to try to ignore that. Not that I weren't used to such savage things coming from him already. At any rate, about AN ENTIRE HOUR LATER, my message finally got through him and he apologized, hooray! Well, all he tried to excuse himself with was that he had a rough day and wanted to take it out on something, WHICH SO CASUALLY HAPPENED TO BE ME. He took it out ON ME despite me having told him DOZENS of times that I don't want to be ANYBODY'S flesh and blood punching bag. I am a person, not a sack of whatchamacallits you can piss on or tear because you feel like it.
After that poorly structured apology he eventually ended up shitting out and handing to me wrapped in school bathroom toilet paper, we had some fun in the evening by making up a new dialect and whatnot.
A day passes. It is now the day of judgement. The final hours before fate is decided. With all this corny shit out of the way, the twenty-sixth of March, at six in the morning, I'd reached out to Denzel to inform him about my absence for the next few hours, as, considering that day fell on a Wednesday, I had to go to school and therapy right afterwards. Yes, I am okay, I only go to therapy because I'm a diagnosed autistic and I supposedly need it.
I spent the entire morning harnessing the courage to speak out to my therapist about all the emotional destruction I'd been taking from Denzel and company over the past seven months. I mean, there really is no right way to talk to your therapist about a group of people causing you distress through fucking Discord. I didn't feel embarrassed about it, nonetheless.
What she said?
She advised me to block them. So, in the middle of her session, I did just the right thing by simply following her advice and not trying to excuse their actions with anything just so I'd end up hurting myself by continuing to stay in touch with them. I got rid of the suckers once and for all.
I did it. I was finally happy with myself. I gave myself what I'd wanted for so long, tranquility, just as how I'm currently feeling. How so? I hear you ask. Well, right now, I feel an immense amount of bliss, since I've just finished taking the crap that'd had me constipated for three whole days.
I do regret to inform that this is not over. It will be soon, but there's still more to this. Frankly, I don't know if I actually do want to write about this, but I wanna keep this logged somewhere, making me HAVE to write something down. Well, writing's fun, so...
That same afternoon, the moment I stepped out of therapy, a person from Denzel's server, whom I'll call Cheesecake, came in to talk to me about something I can't remember. As far as my memory recollection goes, I don't think it was very important either. I told Cheesecake I'd blocked everyone and thought my secret was safe with her. Cheesecake is young, and rather clueless, so I thought it'd be fine if I didn't tell her not to tell the others about what I'd done. I was too focused in getting home that I forgot to tell her to keep that our secret anyway.
Well, she did. Cheesecake told Denzel I'd cut him off, which was the last thing I wanted to suffer through that day. I had to face my forgetfulness regardless. If only I knew young kids were these huge snitches earlier... Younger me would've shut up about the shiz, anyway.
The next day, while I was at school, Denzel would cling onto the last string of hope he saw and attempted to contact me
THROUGH ROBLOX.
This is just sad. So sad it loops back to being funny. Just read what he's saying. He's acting like he doesn't have billions of more opportunities out there. While he does, he decides NOT to use said opportunities, because, on the first hand, according to his dire, pessimistic logic, everyone in the world is a bad person. He chooses to be a parasitic little bastard because he just fails to grasp the concept of good people and believes there is no such thing as one amongst eight thousand million. On the other hand, I'm one of the people he knows best. He knows pretty much everything about me. So, it's certain to say he's quite familiarized with me, and, as I said, we'd known each other for two years before I'd had enough.
Now, onto what I meant by "his treatment towards me was both respectful and demeaning".
Denzel was a huge dingus and a loser. He was also a very big jerk who's oh-so hard to get along with and is abundantly stubborn. He was intensely critical of everyone and everything all the time and, if you disagreed with him, he'd fight you until you surrendered and agreed with him. He also had depressive episodes which seemed to last eons at best, and, in those, it'd take him an offer of a fortune to get started at doing the bare minimum - like his homework or chores, though I'm pretty sure he once told me he never did his homework and he didn't give a single chocolate starfish about his grades - he'd have recurring, lively fantasies of being six feet underground - and I'm absolutely not referring to his farfetched dream of wanting to be a miner - and he'd also frequently make sure to release every single bodily discharge, but especially liquid shit, all over conversations we were holding with him just to shove the fact that he's clinically depressed down our throats. Doesn't he know we get it? Doesn't he know I have had boundaries set with him and have told him a ridiculous amount of times that I don't want to hear anything slightly depressive slip out of him while he's talking to me? I'm letting him spit out whatever nonsense at whoever but me, because dealing with his shit is vastly draining, so why doesn't he just grasp that? With that put clear, the reason why I say he both respected me and failed to at the same time, is because I hypothesize he wanted to have someone to cling onto, being me, and, in order to not lose that person who found pleasure in spending time with him, he'd tell me he admired my work despite being jealous about how much better I was than him at such, and did not respect my limits and boundaries, saying whatever depressive shit came first to his mind around me, no matter how many times I told him I despised it when he did that.
So, pretty much, he respected my skills, humor and charisma, but did not respect my boundaries and suchlike, which I think is something of UTMOST IMPORTANCE to respect in a person. And I'm being very straight here - much like my sexual orientation - you should always take the limits someone slaps onto you seriously and NEVER, EVER, penetrate through them as you wished. "Not knowing" is not a good excuse.
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