They basically said I'm screwed and have emphasized all the myriad of reasons why they don't want to pursue options available, namely, seeking various professional help. They don't quite seem to understand just how valuable that flashdrive actually is.
That flashdrive is quite literally my life's work. All my work, across my entire life, stored there. It is quite literally the one possession of mine I value more than my life. If I could take any one thing with me. Literally everything else except one thing gone. The one thing I would take with me would be that flashdrive. Because that Flashdrive is my life. Both literally and metaphorically.
That flashdrive is a record of my existence. It is a record of my accomplishments, such as they may be. It is a record of what little I have to claim as my life's work. Of course the question comes up of why no backup. The answer to that can be found in knowing that the flashdrive is the backup, to other sources which have since vanished. My original flashdrive. My original laptop. Numerous various long-dead and/or long-wiped desktops. Accumulated over the years to be stored in a single location. And said single location switched eventually from being the backup to being the primary when new original content started being put on it...namely, a combination of schoolwork and my novel.
I don't want to restart all of that. That's literally impossible. I can't recreate over ten years of my life.
I want to recover that.
I don't want to replace the time.
I want to restore it.
And I've tried communicating this to my parents but they simply don't speak me that well since they don't seem to understand this.
They also don't know just how much I can't do anything without that flashdrive.
In theory I'd be able to restart my novel.
What'd be lost is the third draft (most recent work), and the second draft take four (second most recent), and probably also the original.
So I'd lose the most recent content which didn't get far, the second-most-recent content which got reasonably far but not all the way, and the original content which did get there, but it's something I can overcome...in theory.
Because in theory I could see it as a forced fresh start, where the entirety of the novel was thrown out and I'd start over literally from scratch rather than just metaphorically.
...But in practice. There's a combination of autistic inertia, bipolar disorder depression, and just...something else I don't have a word for. But that thing. That thing which when combined with the other two. Makes it so that I just. Can't do anything real-life related. I can't do job stuff. I can't do writing stuff. Heck even art stuff might be difficult.
The best way to describe it is...
...I feel like a part of me has died.
And with that part of me dead.
I can't call upon it.
I can't use the stuff which died.
And yes. Parts of me can be tied to objects, such that the removal of said object from my life can kill those parts. Is that a me-quirk or a quirk of something else, who knows, but I have it all the same. And with it...I can't go on without the flashdrive. Yet they don't understand this.
I'm still alive, but half of me--the half of me I actually cared about--just...died. It's like I lost part of my soul. I can't recover from that. No amount of time. No amount of healing. No reassurance. No offers. No attempts to move on. There's nothing about it which could make me okay, which could make me alright...except for me to get the flashdrive back and working.
Granted, it's not necessarily the flashdrive itself so much as the contents within.
I do like the flashdrive itself mind you (it's a very nice flashdrive), but the flashdrive itself is just a shell, a vessel. It's the contents within which contain the spirit, the fruits of my labor. And I need them back.
That flashdrive is quite literally my life's work. All my work, across my entire life, stored there. It is quite literally the one possession of mine I value more than my life. If I could take any one thing with me. Literally everything else except one thing gone. The one thing I would take with me would be that flashdrive. Because that Flashdrive is my life. Both literally and metaphorically.
That flashdrive is a record of my existence. It is a record of my accomplishments, such as they may be. It is a record of what little I have to claim as my life's work. Of course the question comes up of why no backup. The answer to that can be found in knowing that the flashdrive is the backup, to other sources which have since vanished. My original flashdrive. My original laptop. Numerous various long-dead and/or long-wiped desktops. Accumulated over the years to be stored in a single location. And said single location switched eventually from being the backup to being the primary when new original content started being put on it...namely, a combination of schoolwork and my novel.
I don't want to restart all of that. That's literally impossible. I can't recreate over ten years of my life.
I want to recover that.
I don't want to replace the time.
I want to restore it.
And I've tried communicating this to my parents but they simply don't speak me that well since they don't seem to understand this.
They also don't know just how much I can't do anything without that flashdrive.
In theory I'd be able to restart my novel.
What'd be lost is the third draft (most recent work), and the second draft take four (second most recent), and probably also the original.
So I'd lose the most recent content which didn't get far, the second-most-recent content which got reasonably far but not all the way, and the original content which did get there, but it's something I can overcome...in theory.
Because in theory I could see it as a forced fresh start, where the entirety of the novel was thrown out and I'd start over literally from scratch rather than just metaphorically.
...But in practice. There's a combination of autistic inertia, bipolar disorder depression, and just...something else I don't have a word for. But that thing. That thing which when combined with the other two. Makes it so that I just. Can't do anything real-life related. I can't do job stuff. I can't do writing stuff. Heck even art stuff might be difficult.
The best way to describe it is...
...I feel like a part of me has died.
And with that part of me dead.
I can't call upon it.
I can't use the stuff which died.
And yes. Parts of me can be tied to objects, such that the removal of said object from my life can kill those parts. Is that a me-quirk or a quirk of something else, who knows, but I have it all the same. And with it...I can't go on without the flashdrive. Yet they don't understand this.
I'm still alive, but half of me--the half of me I actually cared about--just...died. It's like I lost part of my soul. I can't recover from that. No amount of time. No amount of healing. No reassurance. No offers. No attempts to move on. There's nothing about it which could make me okay, which could make me alright...except for me to get the flashdrive back and working.
Granted, it's not necessarily the flashdrive itself so much as the contents within.
I do like the flashdrive itself mind you (it's a very nice flashdrive), but the flashdrive itself is just a shell, a vessel. It's the contents within which contain the spirit, the fruits of my labor. And I need them back.
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