In games, a hybrid class can perform multiple roles by mixing abilities and traits from different archetypes. The tradeoff is that said class can’t match the raw performance or throughput of a “pure” class. For instance, in MMORPGs, a pure DPS class, say, a mage, will do more raw damage than a hybrid tanky DPS one or one with group support abilities, at least that is how it is supposed to be.
I tend to prefer hybrid classes in video games, maybe I am intrinsically drawn to them because I’m kind of a dualistic guy by nature, in more ways than I’d like to admit. I like having the flexibility and adaptability that comes with hybrid characters, and how you can use their toolsets to save the day within the game’s mechanics.
You have no idea how many times I prevented wipes with a timely off-heal or Blessing with my WoW Paladin — my go to class in that game, which I have a love-hate relationship with, as Paladins can tank, heal, or DPS (the performance of the latter has always been highly questionable, but I digress).
I prefaced with that because, right now, I find myself living through a sort of unfulfilling “hybrid” life, so to speak, and it is not something I would recommend to anyone.
There is one fundamental thing that I’ve lacked for most of my life, and which has left me feeling incomplete, and that is a sense of belonging to a community or culture. I have become much more aware of this fact these past months because I am still trying to find my own role in the grand scheme of things while building a new life for my brother from zero.
I’ve always been a lonely, introverted man living on the fringes, isolated, and just minding my own business, but never in the past has that lack of connection to a greater whole — a tangible community and culture — felt so heavy for me, and it is starting to wear me down immensely, adding gasoline to the fires of that depression that has lived for me for decades, and which I can’t seem to quell entirely no matter how much I try.
I may have dual citizenship, but I lack a true sense of belonging to either nation’s culture, not because of a lack of trying or contempt (on the contrary), but because of a series of circumstances beyond my control left me unable to establish long lasting community ties. It’s just the life I had to live, that’s all.
My youth was highly marked by having to constantly live in a “fish out of water” situation, since we had to move and start all over several times when I was a kid due to financial hardships and heavy family drama. There was only one period of my life when one such move led to me feeling like I was where I was supposed to be at: when we returned to my birthplace, Maracaibo, between late 1996 and early 1999.
Everything I’ve done these past eight years is basically me chasing that high again, not just for me, but for my brother as well, who was a baby back them — because that was the only time in my life that I experienced what is it like to have a normal life, and that is what I want for him to have.
By normal life, I mean, having friends, hanging out with them, playing video games on a couch, sharing hobbies, playing some sports, engaging in community activities together, etc. I never had that in Caracas, and that’s what left a huge void in me.
Here is the thing, all my documents say I am Italian, yes, since my dad is an Italian man and his two parents were Italian, that is how it works — but while I am legally an Italian citizen that has paid taxes and voted in elections, functionally, I am a migrant, but I do not count as a migrant because I am Italian, creating a “hybrid” life situation which I’m trying to resolve, because I get to be both but neither at the same time.
This non-issue becomes a serious personal issue to me because I do not have a connection to Italy’s culture and customs, even after two years, and not for the lack of trying. I am trying my best to do so, but I’m a broken, introverted man, so I always stick out like a sore thumb, and I just don’t know how to not feel like that, moreso when this environment which I find myself fin is mostly composed of elderly people, or people with their own families — hell even the large amount of African migrants around here have their own community, while me and my brother are just me and my brother.
I’ve been enduring these feelings for months until it really hit me hard during a Christmas lunch we got invited to, which I’m really grateful for, but seeing that family be and act normal, sharing gifts, laughers, kisses, and overflowing with genuine family joy reminded me that I never had that in my mom’s family, while my dad’s family well, really, really despised us, which, coupled with my dad’s infidelities, is what led to my mom leaving that town in the first place and us moving from one place to the other.
While we were just there at that party, being out of place, and sorta barely understanding what was being said, that’s where it hit me. A normal life was a pursuit that my mother tried so hard for us to have for years, and I blame myself for not being fully appreciative of her efforts regardless of the outcome.
Believe me when I say that I try every day to be part of the whole around here, but, my lack of Italian fluency aside, I find it hard to engage in conversations on topics and I have little in common with everyone around me to talk about — then the subject of Venezuela’s crisis justifiably take control of the conversation the moment people ask me where I come from. An elderly person is behind me in the supermarket queue? I say Prego and let them pass. Someone dropped something or needs help carrying stuff, I’m your guy, etc.
I can walk around events in the town, see the stuff, the calcio and seasonal bicycle races, but I’m always the strange spectator, with no one else to talk to. I go to the town’s Italian courses, paid for by European Union funds, and cannot engage with them because I am barred from signing up since they are for migrants only, and I am not one in the legal sense, so I just keep learning Italian on my own, alone, with no one to converse it with.
But more than anything, it kills me that my brother goes through the same, and I don’t know how he feels about it because he’s not the most talkative person there is, given his condition. I’ve tried to express these things with him, even this morning, but he doesn’t answer back when he begins doubting what to say, bless his innocent soul.
So, if I’m not Italian, culturally speaking, why not be part of the Venezuelan whole around here then? I’ve tried that too, and I also feel out of place, so the problem is that I’m just too broken, I guess.
We’ve been to several events organized by the Venezuelan community around here, and because of our nature, we end up always just standing there, not finding much to talk about with others, but we’ll always lend a hand no matter what.
What I’m mostly asked or inquired upon during such encounters is always stuff about Venezuela and the crisis — then again, what else can I talk about, my personal life? Lmao, I never even had friends to go to the movies within Caracas. Video games? No one is around my age range that knows what I’d be bitching about.
Like I said, a “hybrid” life in which you are something but not really, but you try to be something else and you’re not that either really. You try to reach out to no avail because you’re just too broken. Then you go to bed (or couch, in my case), sleep, dream about being happy or have a nightmare, doesn’t matter which one happens, I’ll wake up feeling miserable both physically and mentally, only to repeat the same cycle all over again.
Two years and I haven’t had the chance to explore or visit anything or do anything remotely fun. No matter what I try, nothing feels exciting anymore, the void is just too big, and not even prayer helps anymore, video games much less. I even spoke to the town’s doctor and told her how I’m not feeling mentally well. The response was basically, “oh, that’s just a mood issue then.” I even rbought this up to my dad, and he just switches the subject.
I check back on my old neighbors in Caracas, and it is just the same exact drama as before, so what’s the point. My cousin is justifiably too busy right now to deal with my bullshit too, and I prefer she focuses on her upcoming thesis. Hence, why I’m venting here, since I do pay for web hosting you know.
The only thing that sorta still gives me some fulfilment is helping others and making others laugh. Posting a random silly inside joke that only 12 or so people in the world understand, helping friends with stuff, that kind of things, is the only thing that brings a little smile because even haging in voice chat is a bit tricky for me these days due to time zones.
We’ll see, maybe the cold weather and my lack of cold tolerance because of Hashimoto’s is making me more blackpilled and depressed than I am, we’ll see once the weather warms up + my upcoming test results and potentially higher levothyroxine dosages say about that.
In the meantime, I guess I’ll keep trying to figure things out, see if I can finally feel some fulfilment while hoping that I can finally get my novel project rolling (copies were sent to beta readers).
-Kal
