Recovery

I can safely admit I would not be present today, if it were not for a few incredibly well placed people who came into my life at the right time, and essentially got me to get the fuck back up, and start being a person again.

Last September, in the beginning of what was to be a “rebirth” of sorts, I was barely even human.

I could not eat.

I could not sleep, save for passing out periodically.

I could not talk to people properly, I felt like what I had done, and the events my actions had caused, had turned me into some kind of pariah. A fringe-person, to be shunned by society for their misdeeds.

At that time, I barely even thought like a human being. My mind was hanging somewhere in cyberspace, lost in a sea of “WTF?!”, Nyan Cat, and total insanity. It was essentially malfunctioning beyond belief.

For a look at what it would have looked like, see the following...

Begin Boot Sequence.

[+] Init ramdisc.... Done!

[+] Load Kernel.... Done!

[-] Load Human.... Fail!

[!] Warn: Kernel Module ‘Human’ failed to load!

Kernel Panic!

Overwriting Swap Space!

Reboot...

Essentially, imagine a computer stuck in an endless loop, unable to load its operating system. A completely defective device on its way to overheating and catching fire/blowing up.

Luckily, someone was present to deliver a “hard reset” of sorts, by way of kindness and being a nice person.

It was only a few days after everything had rather spectacularly blown up in the expected hollywood-esque fashion, and my days as a bad guy hacker person had drawn to an end - one which was expected, but never really believed in.

I was walking into college, thinking about how fucked everything was, wondering where to go from here. The simplest things, like getting a cup of coffee (my primary objective that morning) seemed to be unimaginable tasks. Like climbing Mt Everest in pyjamas and slippers. Completely unfathomable, and rather frightening.

It was just as I started to really begin to panic, when a person I knew appeared. I had only met her a couple of times, but she seemed to figure something was up. Probably the look of sheer fucking panic and “WTF” that seemed to be my constant expression at that time. A short conversation ensued, and for some reason, I ended up feeling a shitload better.

She had essentially put me on the road back to “being a fucking person”, and throughout the next while, would occasionally put me back on track when I veered off a bit. No idea HOW, and I even at one point questioned her very existance (yes, that is a thing - wondering is a person actually real, or some kind of cosmic fucking intervention) - but within an incredibly short amount of time, I was able to talk to people. To sleep. Eventually I started actually eating food at somewhat more regular intervals than “sometime, just not now”. 

A while later, this person made me question everything about my nature. A damn good thing, that, because without that, I am not sure if I would have gotten so far.

So, that person (who is not named here), you know who you are, and seriously, I owe you big time. Pretty much owe you my life.

You, are fucking awesome. Thank you.

Skip forward a short while, and things seem to be looking up a bit. A short interlude of idiocy occurred, wherin some things were experimented with that should not have been experimented with, however just as I was fixing up myself and realizing that complete oblivion is not the correct way to forget a problem, another event was appearing on the horizon that would drastically alter my life.

So it was a weekend, and to celebrate the birth of two of my friends, I had headed out to the town for the usual. Some pretty serious drinking, and some craic. I expected to wake up with a lack of memory and a hangover, as per the norm, before finding some daft photos of me attempting to dance* on facebook or something. Something like that.

Instead, I met someone who would immediately change fucking EVERYTHING. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I went and fell in love. And got myself into a relationship.

 

This in itself was a test of kinds, as I had said to myself I would not be getting involved with anyone until I got my shit sorted out. Would not be fair to drag someone into the mess I call a “life”. Especially with the uncertain legal situation.

However, when I met her, it was like “DISREGARD THAT! PLAN CHANGED!”.

A short time later, the shit really hit the fan. Remember what I said about unfair bringing someone into the mess I call a life?

It got messier.

A LOT messier.

Early March, a Tuesday evening, and the only things on my mind were “when do I see her again?” and a particularly troubling Python problem I was trying to solve. I was sitting down, writing an article for my site, when I perchance clicked “news”.

And saw my photo pop up. Over 9000 times. “Oh, fuck.”

The FBI had gone and had me indicted in a court in New York. Nice of them to forget to inform me of the indictment - the first I heard was Fox News.

Scanning the newsfeeds, a lot of things came to light. I had been indicted for a couple of computer crimes, my old friend Sabu was a snitch (something I figured out by myself following my arrest, but I had suspicions and no proof), and that shit had gotten a little bit out of hand.

And that I was now 25, according to the ever reliable media.

First order was to tell my girlfriend, then mock the media on Twitter about my age. Then fucking panic.

I had far too much to lose now, in sharp contrast to 6 months before. I had a new life. A girlfriend I loved. Some work to do. Shiny things to research.

The next while was a complete mess, with media intrusion, and complete paranoia. I took to sneaking around campus, taking alternate routes, and running away from ANYONE who was carrying a camera. Even the “harmless” hipsters. Everything I said online ended up in some article or other, along with everything I ALLEGEDLY said. I had emails from everyone including the bloody Late Late Show.

All of which were ignored.

Amazingly, despite the complete shit-hitting-fan, she stuck by me. And all was well. Life went on. Sure, for a few months my paranoia was set to “maximum”, but I was able to be a fucking human.

Thats it. Without those two people, I would probably not have lasted this long. I would not have come so far. So, to those two, seriously. I owe ye my fucking life.

*From memory, other peoples comments and more than a few photos, my “dancing” is, well, imagine the product of an insane (but amazing) choreographer (yes, I used to be on stage), combined with a sizeable amount of alcohol, and “something”. Wherin the end goal is to NOT lose a single drop from a full pint glass.