My apology and a look into the real me.

This is a look into my mind and my life. If you intend to read this, please consider two things: All of this is important to me. Skimming will really hurt what I'm trying to say. And two, some of this is pretty graphic. Read at your discretion.



It's hard for me to know what to say. People think I'm making excuses when I gives reasons to what I say, and the video you're all seeing gets shorter and shorter every time, to exclude context. I'm REALLY good at making video games sound cool, but I'm really, really bad at expressing my true emotions.



I didn't mean for it to sound like I want people to hurt themselves. I was wrong... and I couldn't be more wrecked about that. I, myself, suffer from pretty extreme depression. I've skirted around the subject a few times, but have never really been able to admit it. I've taken anti depressants, I've been to speak to doctors... What works for me is when I get up in the morning with the same aches and pains a lot of you have, is I tell myself that I have to fight for today. Not for me. Like a lot of others, I want to give up. Quit and run away. Shit, I almost didn't stream on Monday, and given the light of things, that probably would have been the better choice.



But, I tell myself to fight. Because I have a wife whom I am dedicated to serving as best I can. I have a group of friends who see me as a leader, who believe in me to help guide them into success. I have a community who look to me for guidance and entertainment. Monday's stream was mostly fun, honestly. That blip in the morning didn't seem like much until I read the mistake. I seriously didn't believe I could fuck up my statement that badly.



Most of all, though, I work hard for my mother. People have been saying over the past couple of days that I don't know what hardship is like. I'm not going to sit here and tell you about the times I was homeless, or hospitalized with no money, or how I had to steal. I want to tell you about why I'm really, really angry. And why I don't know if I can change that.



In 2009 my sister was murdered. Not killed in an accident, not a disease or illness. A man she knew was robbing her apartment (she was living with my mother at the time) and she walked in on him and began to yell. It's funny, cause I tell people a lot to take caution from The Boy Who Cried Wolf. That was my sister.



She had pretty extreme bi-polar disorder. Her screaming fits were unlike anything I've seen otherwise. Literally hours of yelling at me and my mother over anything or nothing. Just because she didn't know how to control herself. Pills and therapy didn't work for her. Drugs did. The only way she found she could calm down was heroin. She admitted to me a few times that she'd rather be high, ruin her life, and make people judge her as a druggie than to have her family hate her all the time for the screaming and hatefulness she didn't mean. Hell, I remember one time she went on a two hour screaming fit because I changed the shower head from spray to massage because my back hurt from skating the day before.



I knew she didn't mean it, but it affects you. I didn't have a bedroom to hide in like most, I just kind of had to deal with the smoke and yelling for my whole life. Which is probably why I'm so outspoken now. It was hard to get a word in edge wise, so now I try and lead the conversation.



But on the day she died, the neighbors in our apartment building got worried because the yelling stopped. She didn't normally just stop. It would eventually just whittle down until she either passed out from exhaustion or her throat would start bleeding. On that day she just stopped. The moral though is that the yelling started, and no one thought anything of it. It was just that crazy girl next door. By the time the yelling stopped, it was obviously too late.



Here is where I get to admit a lie I've been telling for the better part of a decade. I have a mind's eye. I tell people all the time I can't draw or create visual art because I can't see it in my head. That part's true, but because im just not talented. When I got called home that day, my mother told me my sister had overdosed.



The thing is, my sister told me she was clean not a week before. She told me she was breaking up with her boyfriend who was a drug dealer and she was going to lead a better life and take care of our mom who was scheduled for heart surgery.



When she came home, she saw that boyfriend robbing her and my mother. He killed her, and then staged it as if she had overdosed on the heroin she was trying to use to make her a better person. Pretty ironic.



The idiot cops on that day were there before me. There were outside the bedroom, whose door was ripped off the hinges. My upstairs neighbor had taken it off after my mother realized that a locked bedroom with a diabetic whose not taken her medicine in 11 hours was worrisome. Those same cops were sharing a joke. Laughing. I can still hear it.



The detectives eventually followed the trail, and found him. Turns out he had a wife with whom he confided his killing in. They caught him when she called them and told them the truth: he was on his way to kill someone else.



But the other day someone had said to me the contemplated suicide. Honestly, I didn't even see the full message, just that I in some way helped. I can't deal with that, honestly. What if in a year that person kills themselves? Am I then responsible for not being engaging enough to keep them interested?



I've asked a few times on my stream that people not donate with those messages. I don't want that on my conscience. And it all comes full circle, back to my mother. That's why I want to see you keep fighting. It may seem like all is lost and everyone around you sees you as a burden, but it's not true. You truly will never know how much you mean to someone until you're not around.



My mother and sister didn't get along. there was love, but not a lot of like, sometimes. On the day of my sister's wake, I saw an image even more horrible than anything I could imagine. My mother grieving. It's unbearable to think about. I've only told a few people ever in my life about how terrible it was. My mothers face contorted into the most horrible amalgam of rage and sadness I've ever seen. Movies and TV really will never do it justice. For the first time in my life, my mother had screamed louder than my sister ever could.



So when I wake up in the morning, with aches, and pains, my brain telling me I'll never amount to anything, I sit and I read twitter and reddit and think about my mother and sister. And how now I live for them. How the murder of a girl ruined both of their lives, and how the joy and happiness had been taken from them. And when sometimes my days are so bad that I don't think I can go on, I think about how much hurt my sister passing causes my mother, and how I know she couldn't stand to lose another child.



I don't drink. I don't smoke. I don't do drugs. I eat healthy. I exercise. I work hard to make sure my mom is taken care for, and that I'm never seen as a burden.



When you tell me that you're thinking of hurting yourself, I go blind. I say things I don't mean. I do things I don't mean. Because I get irrational. I get angry and I lose control. Shit, that's why I get so mad at games. Losing, to me, is failure, and I can't fail. I have too much riding on all of this.



The first thing I did after I saw my mistake was email the person who wanted to celebrate their life through that donation and I apologized. Out of respect for his privacy and the apology, I won't write what I said. If he wishes to write about it, that's on him.



The video that got shorter, and the rant I was on that got cut off and lost context showed me saying something awful. I seriously can not apologize enough for it, and I feel terrible. I stepped down form hirez because I realized that my lack of self control reflects badly on too many hard working people and I didn't want to be a burden. That rant, at the end, said plainly: I did not save your life. Music, movies, no form of entertainment saved you. If I help you get over something deep, it's a distraction. I, personally, am not helping you. Because you would have found something to get you through what is hurting you. You want to keep going, and it's yourself you owe the credit for every victory you have. If you find help in your bad states, it's still you who sought it, and you who wanted it most. And I love you for that. Depression is not something that defines you. It's something that impacts you, and hurts you, but it isn't you. You're you.



At the end of the day, there are people who need you. Even if they don't like you. Even if it seems you'd be lifting a burden on them. I have seen what it looks like when a person leaves. It kills more than just you. It changes everyone around you, and rarely for the better.



I am humbled and changed by the hate you've sent me. As a person in the limelight with so many secrets, it's hard sometimes to be honest. And I bottle and I bottle and eventually I say stupid shit. Whether it's to a kid who wanted to share with me, or a bunch of teens who were just trying to get a rise out of me, or even a friend whose attempting to make me chill out because they know why I'm being so fucking stupid. I'm sorry for letting it eat me alive to the point where I snap. None of you deserve my anger. No one does.



It gets hard when people tell you you're trash over and over. I started working to help charity and people only relate it to me "getting something out of it." It's hard not to spiral out of control and snap no matter what you results in people hating you. And mostly because they got banned in chat or I told them their opinion about a video game is wrong. They take it personally, which they're entitled to and tell people that I'm a hateful disgusting prick who should die.



Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you. I can't die. Sometimes I may want to, and sometimes you may want me to, but I can't. I have too much work to do.



I love you guys, that's what people don't see. I don't want you to see it. I hide it. I cut people out, push people away a lot. Even the people who make up stories about me, take my words out of context, and say awful things about me. Because I know if I didn't live the life I had, I'd probably react the same way.



But I'm not a tv show character. Those words you say to me, they hit me. And I understand that's hypocritical, with the way I act sometimes. But please know that I repent. Regularly. And not just when I get yelled at for it. I'm actually a really quiet person when the camera is off. I'm afraid and I'm scared all the time. And I'm absolutely the positive that people will use this to hurt me. But I'm okay with that. Because I'd rather give the people more ammunition to hurt me than be known as a person who truly meant to hurt someone. I'd rather have my life put on display like a fucking Kardashian than allow you to think that I could possibly mean I'd want anyone to come to harm.



I've said it. It's all I can do now for now. I definitely don't know enough about mental illnesses and disorders. I figured by leading my life as I have, with so much hurt around me, I was pretty knowledgeable. But my experiences barely scratch the surface. I'm going to educate myself more on the topic, and I will do my best not to talk about it until I know a ton more. I tell people a lot that they shouldn't have an opinion on something unless they understand it. On this point, I was the ignorant one.



Now, as much as I want to hide in a hole and never come out, I have to go keep working. Not for myself, but for the people whom I live for. I was wrong in my approach, and I hope you'll forgive me.



If you have questions, please.

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