So why is it represented as 99.999… Instead of just 100? It’s because you’re forgetting the fact that fractions and decimals are infinite depending on the magnification. 99.9999… literally goes on forever. That means that no matter how close it gets to 100, it will never be equivalent to 100.

It’s like how you can know infinitely nothing and still think you know everything. 👀🫠

It only signifies that the post-decimal nines are repeating infinitely. It still doesn’t make 99.99999…=100 unless you intentionally round the value for some nondescript reason, and even then, rounding off isn’t changing the value, only the perceived value for mathematical simplicity, not objective accuracy.

Only if you’re rounding. 99.9 is still 1/10 of a digit separated from 100, but it’s not equal to 100 for good reason.

I prefer the one from Mario Sunshine, that one scared the hell out of 8yo me.

Yeah, antiwork was a low effort pace to cry about having to work for a living. Workreform was where all the genuine discussion about stagnating and/or shitty workplace practices.

Lately when someone asks me if I’m okay, my response is something akin to, “I’ll neve be okay again, but I’m alive so I guess I’ll suffer through it.”

My life has never been particularly bad, I’ve always had people around me that tell me they love me and care about me, but very rarely act that way. Throughout it all I’ve always found someone to lean on that actually shows some level of concern, but as I get older, those people have drifted away from me, physically and sentimentally.

I’ve never felt more alone in life than I do now, even with a person or two that might actually care, I know they have their own lives that take precedent over me, and thus I will end up alone anyway.

I can’t do anything to fix it, because factually, I can’t do anything right or commendable. Even when I’m doing things I’ve done flawlessly in the past, I find a way to screw up somehow and make my whole life worse, and my support network (what little there is) shrinks every day.

So I’m stuck in place, crying myself to sleep every night, hoping to whatever people call ‘God,’ that I won’t wake up. Then I cry even harder because there are people and things that I care about more than myself, but which I will never be able to do anything for.

I refuse to kill myself because of my sentimental debt to them, but if I can do nothing to help or honor them, then why shouldn’t I just end it all, and hope that fate treats them better than it has me? If I’m doing nothing right by being alive, what does it matter if I’m dead?

I hate the world, and generally, but not in totality, I hate people. I hate my life and I hate myself to the very absolute core of my existence. I just want all the pain to end.

I don’t know how much, if any of this, is due to mental illness.

I’ve been on depression medication for 7-8yrs and my grandma and uncles will outright dismiss any negative feelings I express at any given time, with a hand wave while saying word-for-word, “just don’t be sad,” or, “there’s other people out there worse off.”

Boy, I sure wish it was as simple as just not being that way. I don’t like being depressed all the time, and I would gladly just stop if that were possible, but other people’s suffering does not invalidate my own, in fact it directly contributes to my depression, as I believe that most of the suffering in the world could be minimized if more people weren’t so awful.

Not to mention the things they directly do that cause my depression. I’m the only one in my immediate family that is more of an “indoor person” than I am an “outdoor person.” My entire life, when they would check on me in my room, drawing, reading, or especially playing video games, the first question they’d ask is, “wouldn’t you rather be outside playing?” No, if I would rather be doing that, I would be doing that.

All of that was even before I grew up and realized that they’re effectively brainwashed political cult worshippers, but that’s a separate, off-topic issue.