(impostor syndrome part 2) you are not special, but don’t let the man get you down

Doc Burford
25 min readApr 16, 2024
pictures for this article will be from the game Vane

One of the most consistent recruitment methods by various right wing factions (religious, n*zi, etc) is preying on people who are desperate to be special.

Here’s the big secret: every single person in the entire world is unique. Being special is a thing you do, it is not a quality you are born with. But n*zis? They love that shit, so they tell you that you’re special because you have a particular skin color.

And their victims — who become n*zis themselves — love that shit, because it means that they can shortcut the line and be special without having to do anything. Which is why a lot of n*zi types are obsessed with race/gender hierarchy. Because it’s effortless. It’s easy.

N*zi recruitment is pretty similar to a sociopathic abuse attack vector model. They find people who are vulnerable, who are pliable because they’re not self-actualized, maybe they’re dealing with self-loathing and stuff, and they start validating them.

“oh, you’re so special, you’re so amazing, you’re so good.” People don’t want to hear “you have to put in the work.” They want to believe they’re innately more valuable than other people. In their minds, “special” is not “unique,” it’s “better than other people.”

You know how they say “comparison is the thief of joy?” Well, a lot of their victims — and I wanna be clear, these are people who are good, or have the capacity to be good — think “special” means “better than other people.”

People who are uniquely susceptible to the “you feel worthless → someone flatters you → you start doing whatever they say → you go at the groups of people they point you at (e.g. marginalized people)” pipeline are people who think they aren’t worth anything.

There’s plenty of groups that use this method, of course. Religious groups that are like “don’t you feel like something is MISSING in your life?” types, for instance. It’s how sociopaths work (the specific term is love bombing).

The goal, of all these types, is to hijack your sense of worth and innately tie it to their cause. So if you’re feeling miserable about yourself, if you’re worried you’re not good enough or whatever, they try to target that shit. So… how do you avoid falling prey to this?

Well, step one would be to realize that no one is more special than anybody else. You’re out there letting the thief of joy, comparison, rob you of joy, because you’re constantly comparing yourself to other people. You think validation comes from being ‘better’ than other people.

Some people, even when they appear to have the correct politics, are in it for the wrong reasons — that’s why there’s so much leftist infighting. Those people are on the left not because they believe in solidarity, but to give themselves permission to be ‘above’ other people.

They might have good politics, but they are mechanically very similar to shitheads around the world. So you can’t just ‘hang out with leftists’ to solve your problem, because this is a problem that goes much deeper than politics.

Instead, what you need to do is go “is my self-worth based on comparing myself to other people?” Once you start working to ensure your self-worth comes from within, rather than through comparison, you’ll be less susceptible to that style of abuse.

If someone tries to prey on your insecurities and you’ve worked very hard not to have any, they won’t be able to get in that way, you know?

I watched a dude turn from good person to absolute shithead just because some girls turned him down. Made him so insecure he fell prey to that. Became a total fucking dipshit who went around shitting on anyone he could because he couldn’t stand to be the least special person.

Like, dude, really? You abandoned your integrity and became the exact person you told me you didn’t want to become just because you were afraid you didn’t stand out?

I was lucky; I grew up being told very specifically that I was a worthless piece of shit for not doing what other people wanted me to do or be, so something in me broke and I stopped being motivated by external validation.

So, when my boss assaulted me, and MRA types heard about it, they tried to recruit me, and I was having none of that shit, because I didn’t have any insecurity to prey on. I don’t get motivated by other people. I am not motivated by acclaim or praise.

Anyways, when I was at my lowest, and things were being exacerbated by Wellbutrin (I was suicidal at the time), I changed my username to something like “worthless” or something. And a friend gets me on a call. He’s a badass dude.

Has a cool sword collection.

And he gets on and he says “Doc, I know you feel like shit, but if you don’t respect yourself, nobody’s going to respect you either.”

So you know what? I don’t say I’m worthless. It came, occasionally, from time to time, but it went, too. My brain is simply broken. It does stupid shit like that. And I’ve become increasingly aware of how to combat my brain’s desire to do that.

So if you’re someone who was like me, someone who’s out there and feeling worthless, looking at other people who seem to have their shit together (some people even think I have MY shit together, which hahaha I’m trying, but I’m also struggling! I’m human, just like you!)…

...just remember that comparison is the thief of joy. If you feel a howling, sucking void, if there’s some hole in your soul that you’re trying to fill, maybe that’s a dead loved one, a missed opportunity, whatever… don’t try to fill it by trying to become ~better~ than others.

You’ll just become more miserable, and you’ll become even more susceptible to the kind of people who see that insecurity and want to maintain it so they have power over you.

People will use your insecurity to make you less special, all while promising you that they see you, they like you, you’re valid. They prey on your self-loathing, use it as the grease to gain power. And they wanna either break you or make you a n*zi.

This tweet is a good example of how this kind of process works, right? New converts have absolutely batshit insane beliefs because they’re trying to fill a void they feel.

Everybody’s got voids, right? Like, hey, here’s one of mine:

Toby died in 2016, and I didn’t even get to see him before they put him down. And it hurt. It hurt so much. I cannot put into words how much I loved him, and how much losing him hurt me.

There’s just… an emptiness where he was. I tweeted a while back that a lot of my stories are about grieving since I have so much grieving to do, and if you played Adios, you know that the grieving there for Brodie was really me writing to my dogs, Toby and Katy.

Obviously, the easiest way to fill that hole would be to get a new dog.

But that’s loss, which is a slightly different kind of void than self-worth. The thing about self-worth is that you actually can fill that hole! It’s totally doable!

I had a void in me for the longest time that was caused by losing my ability to fly airplanes. I thought, you know… I mean, my first memory was of the USAF Thunderbirds flying over Cessna Park in Wichita. Every instructor said I was a prodigy at flight. And then I got sick.

And… I was miserable. You have no idea how miserable I was. I wanted to die. Every day. There was this girl who saw that, and who was dealing with her own shit, and she decided to take advantage of that.

So she buttered me up, told me she loved me, sent me Valentine’s Day cards, that kind of thing. She knew what was happening to me at home, she knew the medical stuff, knew I was coming apart, and so she got me close.

It got bad. Like, gaslighting, self-harm, planning suicide bad. About a year and a half later, she apologized to me, told me her mom stole her money for weed and she was looking for someone to hurt. Since she knew I wouldn’t fight back, she picked me.

But I lost my wings, because I’d gotten so sick from my actual illness and the stress, and the doctors were saying I’d never be able to fly again. I can’t begin to put into words what it’s like to lose literally everything that you are, ever wanted to be.

Even in school, I wrote some stories that were thinly-veiled stories (I tend to write myself as a girl, I don’t know why; the characters I identify most with in Waifu Death Squad are women as well) about me flying planes. People loved ’em. So I stopped.

And you might think “why would Doc stop if people loved the stories?” Well, like I said, I don’t really get motivation from external validation. I realized all I was doing was picking at the scabs where my wings used to be. Reminding myself of what I had lost.

I dropped out of school.

My whole life, there was only one thing I ever wanted to be: a professional pilot, maybe even an astronaut. I was very physically active before I got sick. I was an amazing pilot, according to my instructors (I’ve told the story about Kirby and I and test pilots before).

And so, eventually, I paid off my loans by working shit hours at the post office, then I lost my job, but KU Med Center was willing to give me heavily discounted medical care to get my brain fixed, so I took it, and they hooked me up to EEGs three days a week, every week.

“You have a good brain,” Dr. Drisko told me. “You just have some inflammation that’s making it work not quite right. So we’re gonna work on that.” But she made it clear I’d never, ever get to pilot planes professionally. I’d have to do something else.

So that’s how I found myself at Butler Community College, where Shiva Kumar, a raspy-voiced, six foot five Indian guy with a huge fro, pulled me out of a programming class and said something like “gnōthi sauton.” I went “what” and he goes “know thyself.”

We spent the next three or so hours just talking, about what I wanted to be, where I wanted to go, how I’d lost my wings and how I didn’t really know who I was anymore. And he was like “yeah that’s why I said “know thyself.”

Over the years, I’ve had people come to me, usually to get something out of me. They would go “oh, you were so good at kotaku, I always admired your work, would you…” and like… I’m proud of the work I did, but that’s never gonna be an In, dumbass.

I am not susceptible to that kind of emotional bribery — which is what that behavior is. Learn to tell the difference between someone just going “you’re awesome” and “you’re awesome [so i want you to…]”

By the way, while wellbutrin did absolutely fuck me up, I wanna be clear, it’s amazing for some people and I don’t want to scare you off it if it would help you. If you are taking new meds and you’re feeling awful though, please tell your doctor, that could be brain meds.

If you are susceptible to emotional bribery, I want you to… do the exact thing I told you to do in the impostor syndrome article. Focus on the tasks you have to do. The things you want to build.

People tend to wallow in misery, and we’ll do an entire article on that one eventually, but this was a twitter thread I realized could be helpful so I turned it into an article, so here it is. They’ll tell themselves “oh, I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t do it.” You can’t let yourself think that. It’s a habit you have formed. So form a new habit, one where you say “I want to do this or that thing,” and then you make plans to do it.

People have asked me how I’ve survived so much hell — I’m disabled, been discriminated against (sometimes violently), I’ve been hospitalized, I’ve been so poor I needed food stamps to survive, like, my life fuckin’ sucked for so long, and it’s better now, but I am still disabled as shit.

I was having a conversation with my dear friend Phil about this the other day, and I was like “why don’t people just… you know, break tasks down into little steps and just do one step at a time?”

Like, my house is a mess (due to fatigue issues and some other stuff) and I’m working to clean it up. I’m overwhelmed by the whole task (people with ADHD tend to see the entire task, rather than individual components). I have severe ADHD, but I figured out if I could simply conceptualize a big task as a series of little tasks, I could just check a bunch of little tasks off my list.

So today, I went into my office, and I just started grabbing handfuls of stuff. I would find a bunch of objects, and I would transport them to where they needed to go, one at a time. Instead of “clean the room,” I turned the task into “I need to fill this box with rocket parts, then take it to the storage unit.” So I worked until the box was full and put it in my car.

Then I kept doing that — forcing myself to focus on the individual step — until my car was full. Then I took it all to the storage unit.

The room is not clean, but I made headway, and I feel good about having made the headway. Instead of wallowing in “I can’t do it,” I did a bunch of easy tasks that, when combined, were just part of one big hard task.

Same with making games. Originally, I just wanted to learn how to do some stuff in 3D. Eventually that became “ship a game.” Then the next goal was “ship the smallest game possible with a budget so I can pay people well.” Then the next goal was “get a budget big enough to hire a team to build a game that sells well,” which is what I’m hoping Waifu Death Squad will be.

Set lots of goals. Achieve those goals.

I do not worry about acclaim; I’ve been told by several people that Adios made them choose to live, deal with their dog’s passing, reconnect with their family, and so on. That’s all extremely good things to have done, and I could quit making games just knowing I did that and be pretty happy with my impact!


If I focus on that, trying to turn myself into someone ‘special,’ so I can be the hero of reality… all I end up doing is looking down my nose at all the people who didn’t do the things that this hypothetical version of me thinks make me special, right?

But I have a story to tell.

It’s a story I came up with by rifling through my scrap drawers of ideas, taking some out, reworking them, plugging them into each other in strange ways, deleting some ideas, enhancing others… and now it’s a game I’m very excited to share with you.

Being ‘special’ is something other people ascribe to you in hindsight. They do it because of what you’ve done. I know I’m a good writer and good game designer. I know I can make a lot of money for people — I’ve done it before — and I’d like to make a lot of money with my next game, so I can pay everyone well enough so that they never have to run GoFundMes for medical care or anything, right? I want the work we do to be so good that even if we don’t sell well, all of my people can get jobs somewhere where they’ll be taken care of.

I don’t think about other people compared to me.

Wanna know why?

Because… a person who wants to be special will try and try and try to stand out, but they’ll keep failing, because nobody likes someone whose version of self-worth comes from comparing themselves to other people.

If you just put people down as a way to make yourself feel good, you’ll never matter to anyone, because the very people you’re putting down are part of the community that you’re a part of. If you try to turn being human into a fucking rat race, you’ll find that you’re making more work for yourself, because now you have to compete with people.

My life’s way easier because I don’t think about people in comparison to me. When I say “fuck yeah, I love Adios, I’m the fucking best,” I’m praising me, but I’ve got no interest in tearing you down, which is why I can honestly tell you, to your face, that you’re fucking amazing. Because I believe it.

Comparison will rob you of happiness.

If you’re not careful, a hole in you will form, one that you cannot fill, because you keep making the hole bigger by comparing yourself to other people, mistakenly believing that to be worth something, you have to be worth more than someone else.

You don’t want that. But if you continue, you’ll try to stand out, or you’ll try to fit in, and you won’t get the acclaim, the praise, that you think you’re owed. You’ll end up chasing the high of validation while you unintentionally scream to the world that you don’t deserve it because you don’t respect yourself enough to like you for who you are.

People like this want other people to do the work of praising them, let others figure out who they are because they’re afraid of what they might find (which is tragic! because there’s actually a worthwhile person in there, but that person needs time and attention the way a plant needs light and water!). So these people, desperate for validation, shapeshift into whatever it is people praise them for. They’re pliant. They’re pliable. They appear, to the predator, to be easily fucking manipulated.

You know what happens to people like this?

They end up in shit relationships, constantly hating themselves, constantly acting out and trying to go “look at me, I’m special for… for… some… reason.”

Look at J.K. Rowling; could you honestly tell me that woman likes herself? What about Graham Linehan? Dude got told “don’t be this fucking asshole, man” and he instead chased the validation of transphobic shitheads. Why? Because he was desperate for approval.

People who like themselves don’t chase approval, because they don’t need that kind of validation. People who hurt people open themselves up to more hurt because they are desperate to fill the hole formed by self-loathing.

If you want people to like you, start by liking yourself.

If you don’t think there’s much to like, start looking at your quirks. What kind of drink do you order at a fast food drive thru? Me, I always order everything without ice because if they put ice in the drink, then I can be sure they probably didn’t use a diet drink either, and as a diabetic, that would be very bad, so I always order without ice.

Okay, maybe that’s not a very likable trait, but it’s a quirk of mine, right? I can go on and on and on.

Sometimes, you’ll find things you don’t like about yourself! There’s things I don’t like about myself either, like I have to talk through problems to understand them and it probably annoys people, or I have a tendency to nest, and that I find comfort in messiness.

But that’s okay, because now you’ve discovered something you can work on.

The nazis, remember (this was a twitter thread so I asterisked the above, but hey, we’re back and I’m on medium so I don’t really care now), they want to tell you you’re automatically great just because of how you were born.

No one is fucking great because of how they were born. Greatness is something you earn — which means other people bestow it upon you — and the best way to earn is… well, by doing things. You have to do stuff. It’s just like the impostor syndrome article!

There is no racial passive a human gets simply for being born human. You are not innately more valuable than any other human (hey can you tell I’m an anti-monarchist?) just because of the blood coursing through your veins. You are just as valuable as everyone else on this planet, which means, holy shit, everyone around you is special and worth caring about.

People who hate themselves try to tear other people down. If they can’t do it alone, they’ll try to make you feel special by entrusting you with lies they claim are secrets, making you feel like you matter because someone trusts you, because you’re in on some secret truth (this is also how conspiracy theorists lose their fucking minds — they need to be special for knowing something you don’t).

If you fixate on being special, you’ll never be special, because it says you don’t respect yourself, and you need to tear people around you down.


Consider that you are a part of this wonderful, huge, amazing human species. I wear bright colors because I’m happy with them, not because I’m trying to stand out from you, right? The lady at the grocery store (I was getting pepsi cause it was on sale) told me she loved my shirt. You can get this shirt yourself by searching “Joy Division Cat” or something. Hot Topic appears to have ripped it off lol. I forget who I originally bought it from.

Me, I’d see this as the Same Hat scenario, like, “holy shit, awesome!”

Someone who hates themselves and is looking for a reason to be better than other people, though?

All they’re going to do is get mad at another person wearing the same shirt, making them feel just a little less special.

That’s stupid as shit. I’m not more special than you because a nice lady thought my Joy Division Cat Shirt was cute. I’m unique because I have a unique life, a life that is totally unlike yours but just as unique, and I worked super hard at writing, so now I’m pretty good at it.

I bet you’re pretty good at some things. Like, there’s this one person I love really dearly who’s like, amazing at fighting games. I used to just love watching them play fighting games, even though I’m garbage at them. I never sat there and thought “I have to get good at fighting games because I’m not as special as they are since I suck at fighting games.”

We’ve lost touch; I hope one day we can hang out again, ’cause they really were one of my favorite people. Someone told me they hated my guts so I shouldn’t talk to them, but I think that’s a misunderstanding, so when that person wants to talk again, I’m going to give them the biggest fucking hug in the whole world. I love them to pieces, actually.

Thing is, if we hung out together, and I found out in the time since we drifted apart, they’d picked up rockets too, and I was insecure, I’d be like “oh no! Rockets are like my thing!” But no. I don’t think like that. Instead, I would be like “holy shit! I’m so glad to see you! I’m into rockets too!!! Do you have any good fin lamination methods?” like wow, we now have a new thing in common to share.

Humans are part of a community. We’re social creatures. I love just… watching humans, all different, all magical, all doing things I can’t even imagine. I know some people who are a lot like me, and then you find out they hate raisins or some shit. I know other people who are nothing like me, and I love everything about them. I’ve always loved just… seeing people with interests that aren’t like mine, living their lives, loving the things they love.

Another friend of mine absolutely loves a game I don’t love at all. I love talking to him about it because he’s got such a firey passion for it. Sometimes I ask him questions, and it makes me so happy when he obliges. I’ve learned a lot from him! I might even give the game another shot. But, hey, if I don’t like it, that’s okay. I like what I like, he likes what he likes. I love him because I absolutely fucking love his passion for Yiik, though. I used to shitpost about that game. Thanks to him, I understand things a bit better, and I hope I’m a bit less flippant about it now.

So, hey. Listen. If you have a void you’re trying to fill by comparing yourself to other people… please understand: it will never be filled, because you’re going about it the wrong way. That void can only be filled by learning to love yourself.

If you’re in a situation where someone’s constantly validating you, but you still hate yourself, you may be feeling like there’s something wrong with you. You might even feel dependent on that person — after all, they’re validating you, so they’re your friend, right?

Consider that the person trying to fill you up with hollow affirmation is the drain on your own happiness; they’re constantly reopening that wound by validating what they know isn’t actually helping you be the person you want to be.

If you hate being miserable, then maybe you should ask yourself if the people praising you are doing it for you, or they’re doing it to get you to do something, like being subservient to them and constantly miserable. Sociopaths fucking love victims who are insecure, just like Nazis, just like transphobes, just like religious converts. It’s all about preying on that need.

I realized this too late in one case. There was this shitty dude who ended up stealing a lot of my work, a real “christian in bio, not in lifestyle” kind of fraud, right? He validated me a lot, so I thought that meant he was a solid dude who liked me and recognized who I was. Cool. Then… he started needling me. He’d act like the things I liked weren’t important — like… I told him this shot from Black Hawk Down meant everything to me:

And he, I dunno, needlessly shit on me for it? Here I was saying “I really love this depiction of male affection” and he was just like “yeah that whole movie sucked, I don’t know why you recommended it to me.”

I started to realize that for all his wholesome demeanor and brand-building, he used praise as a means to disarm people and get them pliant. When he figured out that didn’t really work on me, he did his best to fuck me over and moved on. Whatever. There’s a million assholes like him in video games. He’s not special (lol, what is this article about?).

There was a tumblr post where someone burned a book called “Boys like Girls who…” or something. Someone replied, going “I’ve actually read that book. You shouldn’t burn it. The final sentence of the book is ‘Boys like girls who like themselves’ because it’s a book for girls who want boys to like them and are struggling with self esteem. The title is meant for the girls who don’t understand that they need to love themselves.”

Makes sense. “Stop asking how to get boys to like you” won’t lure in a shy insecure girl who’s trying to figure out what’s missing in her life. “Boys like girls who…” absolutely will.

If you start looking at the things you do, the things you like (do you have a specific artist you enjoy?), if you start doubling down on the things you like (I like certain colors, like pink, so now I wear them!), and doing it for nobody but you, because you like them… you’ll find that you no longer feel lost, or empty, or hating yourself.

People like people who like themselves. That’s confidence, and as it’s often said: confidence is sexy. “Yeah. I’m awesome.” That’s where you want to be.

People don’t like people who say “I’m better than you.” I’ve been studying fascism a lot because of Waifu Death Squad, and people love the scenes with one of our characters, not because he’s a fascist shithead, but because he’s so fucking pathetic, every time he’s all “I’m better than you!” it’s fun to see him getting taken down a notch.

To be loved, you must love. To be liked, you must like. To feel fulfilled, you must put in the work to fulfill yourself. Telling yourself that you’re special because, I dunno, you were born with blonde hair and blue eyes is so fucking useless. Graham, being born cisgendered doesn’t make you better than trans people, but attacking trans people sure makes you worse than most. Elon, no amount of praise in the world will actually make you a good comedian. You gotta learn to be funny, not just steal jokes from 9gag and pretend to be your kid on twitter for some reason.

Being special isn’t worth chasing. Every single person in the world is special in different ways. It’s fucking crazy to think that despite a fairly small amount of genetic differences (think of it like this: we share 98.8% of our DNA with chimps, yet none of us are even remotely like chimps, so that remaining 1.2% of our DNA somehow results in the VAST amount of variation we see across the human species! That’s crazy!!!), we’re all incredibly different from each other.

Isn’t that just the fucking coolest?

Being born with a 0.1% difference from another person is just a weird fuckin’ way to think about your value. If your value only comes from other people, specifically from like… tearing them down… that just means you’re antisocial. So don’t derive your value from comparison. Be pro-social instead. Love yourself and love everybody around you.

Don’t be like one of those weird white ladies who tells you that she’s like 1/32nd Cherokee so she’s actually a woman of color so she’s actually special and therefore is the first woman of color to graduate from Harvard or some shit (yes, I’m looking at you, Elizabeth “Racism-Induced Stolen Valor” Warren). That’s someone who doesn’t think she’s special unless she’s born with it.

If she doesn’t think she’s special, nobody else will either.

When you seek external sources to somehow ‘earn’ being special… you miss the point. You know why, I dunno, Steve Irwin was special? It wasn’t because he was born Australian. It was because he showed us his love for the animal kingdom.

Why is your favorite musician special? Because of the music they make. What about your favorite author? The cook at your favorite restaurant? Your favorite person? What do they all have in common? They lean into the shit that makes them unique. They do the things they like doing.

So what do you like?

I’ll never get to be a pilot. I would’ve been amazing at it — I know, because I was amazing when I was just getting started. But that’s gone now, and I had to become someone else. I found new things to like. It was so painful; if you’ve never gone through it, you’ll never really understand. But if you have, then you know.

Find what you like. Focus on that. Stop comparing yourself to other people. Stop trying to be special. You’ll become special by being you.

“But what if I don’t like me” then you don’t know yourself very well, or you need to get up and change things. I don’t like my one-pack ab (im fat). When I can afford it, do you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to get a trainer. Do you know why? Because I require the scheduling of regular gym visits in order to be able to keep up that routine. I need the accountability I can get from a trainer. I don’t love that about myself, and I don’t love my body — I think it’s disgusting. But one of these days, motherfucker, I’m gonna have a six pack.

Sometimes, the light at the end of the tunnel is an anglerfish. That doesn’t mean there’s no light, it just means you’re looking in the wrong direction.

Being special is what you do, and if you want to do the things that are yours to do, you have to figure out who you are, and learn to like that about yourself. I love that I come up with the ideas I come up with. Nobody can write stories like me. My best bud Phil? Yeah!! He and I were talking about a thing he wrote, and I could pick out all of his contributions because he’s so fucking distinctive. He got to be distinctive because he knows how to lean into doing what he loves.

He knows what he likes, and that makes him great! I know what I like, and that’s why I keep making the weird shit I do! Because nobody else can! Anyone who tries to emulate me will just end up making their own, totally different, extremely cool shit!

So figure out what you like!

And then get to liking! And loving! And doing!

Love yourself, okay? It requires practice. It requires work. If I can help, well, I’d like to. My DMs are open to anyone, even to people who think we’re mortal enemies. I hope this is a strong start. I love you more than you could ever know.

Hey, I could use some help with medical bills and groceries. If you want to support the work I do, like this article about the biggest pitfall young writers face and how to get around it, then hey, hit up my tip jar.

I figure this kind of writing helps inexperienced writers the most — which means people who might not have the finances to afford my work if I kept it behind a paywall. A paywall would help me, obviously — I could guarantee a certain minimum that would ensure my ability to continue writing these articles — but the people who need my help the most cannot afford it. So I gotta rattle the tip jar. I know it’s not pleasant, but like… think of me like a busker. I’d rather play a song on the street and get a few coins in a hat than just run a gofundme or something.

I, personally, can only do this with your support; if I wasn’t doing this, I’d have to get a second job, and as disabled as I am, that’s really not great. I have to spend between $145 and up to an entire Nintendo Switch’s worth of my income on medical care every two weeks. Seriously, it was $300 not too long ago. That’s an extremely difficult burden for me.

So it’s either do this or get a second job, and a second job would not be ideal given my current disability. So when you send me a tip, you’re not just helping a disabled writer like me, you’re helping tons of students, disabled people, and others without access. Thank you.



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Doc Burford

I do some freelance work, game design consulting, and I’ve worked on games Hardspace: Shipbreakers and created games like Adios and Paratopic.