Tym

  Tym and I met rather serendipitously over YouTube about five years ago. I don't remember the exact date. In fact, I don't remember much, I only recall being maybe a little too smitten with him. Everything about him turned my hard scowl into a wide, somewhat playful grin in response to his own. His voice was deep and croaky, and it constantly sounded like he'd been awake for only minutes after a thirteen-hour nap snoozing away jet lag. His tone was constantly disinterested and monotonous but he was friendly with everybody he met.

  His ever-changing mood was difficult to keep up with, though. One second he would send message after message in his upbeat typing style that was sometimes difficult to decipher and understand, and others he would message you first but still only respond with a word or two. He wanted to speak with people, to keep that connection, but had the energy for it only half the time. Speaking with him verbally was the same; one minute he couldn't be stopped and the next he'd rather listen instead. I liked all sides of him. When he couldn't be contained and when he was so fatigued that we regularly wondered if he'd fallen asleep while gaming with us. (He had).

  He didn't speak prevalently of his anxiety but it was there, and on that front, I could relate. I would ask him what the cause was and he would tell me that he didn't know, he just felt uncomfortable. Apparently, he got it 'from his mum's side'. To ease that feeling of discomfort, he played games like Resident Evil and Silent Hill. Seemed a little bit backwards to me, playing games that could eke fear out of anybody to soothe himself, but it worked. He uploaded videos of himself playing that garnered maybe four or five hundred views if he was lucky. But his channel was there for him, not for anybody else.

  One of his playlists that I took a particular interest in was called 'wall staring', and the content within was exactly that. He would sit in his dimly lit bedroom, his hair short enough that his exhausted, lined eyes would be on display, and he would stare at the wall. There were six of these videos and they lasted anywhere between three to forty minutes. These videos drew in fewer viewers, as you'd expect. I wanted to know why he made them, let alone uploaded them, but I didn't have it in me to ask. The only explanation I could offer would be that it was his method of winding down. For as long as he decided, all he had to focus on was that spot on the wall.

  He still is all I'm describing, by the way. I realise I've been talking about him in the past tense and probably alluded to something quite dark, but no. He's just much harder to track down these days. He hasn't been active on his Facebook account for at least eight months, and for a while, I thought he'd vanished. Not in the abracadabra! sense, but more that he'd made the conscious decision to disappear. In actuality, he probably got a life and took a step back from social media. Wonder what that's like...

  The last communication I, or any of our mutuals, had with Tym was when he sent me a sticker of a cactus on the 17th of October last year. It was my birthday so the cactus was of course adorned in a party hat, holding a balloon. That tiny communication allows me to take comfort in the fact that he's still just as thoughtful as he always has been, and more importantly that he's okay. But I believe he's taking time to focus on himself. He's still consistently uploading to his YouTube channel, too. It's nice to see him putting his energy into something he's really passionate about.

  Tym gives me hope in a way that I can't really describe. I know that's supposed to be my shtick. I'm supposed to have all the words, but I don't. All I know is that he's okay, and that's all that matters.

Signed,
Elijah.
Meta Sentience.
26/05/2018