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一個人什麼時候才會開始思考「我」這個概念的存在？什麼狀況下才會開始探索這個，感受一切、好像操控著身體，但又好像被身體操控著，情緒發生、痛苦匯集、時而喜悅、時而悲傷，但又沒人說的出存在於哪裡的「主觀意識」、那個到底是誰，是什麼的「我」？
聽起來像是單純陷入了存在危機，但我要描述的是一個來自實際醫療體驗照成的強烈真實衝擊。
我二十多歲才第一次進入精神科，但這遲來的診斷跟陸續的藥物看似有改變了什麼？但又好像什麼都沒有改變，又這樣渾渾噩噩的精神科看診拿藥吃藥循環，但生活一樣一團亂，不上不下過了將近快十年，一樣的曲折只是我可能比較能知道怎麼了，但沒有用，痛苦依舊，徬徨依舊。
直到兩年前換了醫院、換了醫生，連藥與治療策略都換了後，產生的身心差異改變，大到現在回顧還是覺得荒謬到只能笑了，三十多年的人生，那些苦痛的避免，差的就僅僅是這幾顆藥跟正確的醫療與知識。
最初的治療只是每天多了一顆藥，一週之內，從小支配著我的某種慾求導向的感受被暫停了……
第二週過後，那本來無法自控的瘋狂衝動，竟也出現鬆動與可被控制引導的跡象。
但那些卻是構成30多歲的我，從小到大喜好、價值觀、內在目標、渴求、外在行為表現……等等的，許許多多我們定義一個人，是個怎樣的人所用的那些描述方式，而如果這些是藥物可以輕易改變的，那麼我們人類詞語中的所謂自我、人格、靈魂，還有所有描述一個人不變本質的一切，到底憑什麼被定義的？
從那時起，我所看待世界的方式，所追求的目標，想要做的事物都因此而改變了，我對科學研究、各種知識、教學資源，與能讓我理解這個世界的一切，都充滿學習動力與無止盡的好奇。
但現實的並不像故事或電影中那樣的靈丹妙藥，可以吃了後就再也沒有問題了，這兩年內，依舊是在藥物耐受性，過去習慣的反撲，跟各種長期問題導致的鎖困境中不斷掙扎，治療方案跟藥物劑量也都是一個月一個月不斷地調整實驗適應，但至少比早於兩年前那些迷茫的日子有著顯著的差別。
這是一種從「這一切到底為什麼？既然我無法控制我的身體，那為何要讓我在這個主觀搖滾區，體驗感受這一切苦痛？」，從只有迷茫、痛苦與絕望，轉變為
「我透過知識，理解一切不可控背後的可能為什麼，也正在感受體驗跟嘗試理解干涉這些不可控」，知道我在主動介入中，有機會慢慢轉變這一切。
光是這樣的差異，即使一樣的不斷負面循環中，一次一次的再次墜落，但卻有了殘留物，一點一滴的累積，而有了能呈現的這一切，能讓我在這邊訴說我的故事。
我是鄭文宣，你也可以稱我為十一。
我的故事從1989年6月開始。
每個生命的出生都如同是一次抽獎。
我抽的不好不壞，但以全球視角來看，或許已經是很好的獎項了，光是身處台灣這件事。
家中經營一個廟街上的餐飲小吃攤販，父母平時只有忙碌與疏離，從小是在半放養於廟街長大的，那樣的時空背景與家庭教育環境，不管是家人還是我自己，都未曾接觸過現代所謂的神經多樣性概念，直到成人後才發現天生的原廠設定有點特殊，才釐清從小被無止盡打罵長大，跟在學校或各種環境中，不斷面對各種混亂境遇的根本原因。不是所謂他們口中那一再刺進內心、撕裂出傷痕無數標籤所寫的那樣，而是一個個可以被科學描述邏輯解釋為什麼的現象。（但還是很多未知）
ADHD、學習障礙，跟一些有的沒的，聽起來好像很可怕，但問題就出在不夠可怕，沒有明顯到讓人一眼就知道這個小孩需要協助，而是變成各種負向標籤在成長過程的來來去去，但幸好不知是個性還是運氣，只是塑造出了孤獨又怪異中二的我，也只能這樣自嘲了。
習慣一個人的我，很大一部分的價值觀世界觀建構，來自各種書籍各種人類想像，不管什麼種類的書籍文字，還少不了小說動漫遊戲等等，這一切支持著我活到今天，雖然也有點諷刺的是，直到離開校園，離開可以自由自在創作的年齡後才發現原來很多的技能難以熟練與專注，其實與那些身體障礙，還有大腦結構狀況也有關聯，但也不可能重回年少時代走一次如果及早發現治療的話，我會怎樣了。
現在的藥物作用再大，也不能讓已發生的問題自動消失，也無法瞬間重置長久以來神經連結建立的深刻習慣，他給予的是重新出發的機會、可能性跟協助，而同一時間也有一個東西跟藥物一樣參與了這趟改變的旅程，就是這時候正轉向商業走進大眾眼光的LLM。
從前面對各種狀況與困難我依舊想學習或創作的話，依賴的是紙本字典、電子字典、各種工具書，再轉變到網際網路、Google Translate，而現在則大量使用 LLM。不管是語言的部分，還是讓我這個大學是數位多媒體專業的非科學背景一般人，也可以暢遊在許多領域與學科的資訊海洋中，的資訊探索學習部份。
科技並沒有讓我的學習障礙消失，它改變的是障礙與任務之間的介面：原本無法可靠提取的詞，可以被重新提供；原本難以跨過的語言輸出，可以透過反覆比較與修正完成。這也是為什麼我覺得我出生的抽獎已經很不錯的緣故，有醫療的機會，有接觸技術的機會，還不用擔心溫飽。
看似一切都沒問題了，只要一直朝著正確的方向前進，可以改變自己的人生，也有可能幫助更多的人？
但為什麼呢？
為什依舊是現在這個樣子呢？
無力的癱坐在床上，環顧四周一切都是亂堆的東西，垃圾跟雜物散落在地上，到廚房到各個房間的路也都都被各種東西堆疊堵塞，客廳空間除了雙人床外，也被天竺鼠八齒鼠的生活空間佔領了，每次起床睜眼，我都覺得不能再這樣了要整理，而且要去上班要去賺錢，還有欠款、還有一堆錢沒繳，需要長期照護的動物醫藥費也不能省，但……再怎麼努力，就是起不來啊，我知道要工作要出門要動作要收拾，但好不舒服，動不了，好絕望好難過……到底為什麼？
這是2026年最糟的幾個時刻的寫照，通常在藥盒不知道丟去哪後，或是藥盒的藥吃完後卻沒有趁有動力的時候重新填裝，再一個早晨沒有成功吃到藥，接下來就會進入一天比一天遭的負向循環，螺旋式的墜入黑淵，直到一樣的的流程，某個時刻後，耐心磨滅的伴侶會憤怒又哀慼的挑起戰爭，這時反而因為腎上腺素、愧疚感、憤怒，跟各種有的沒的獲得動力，然後稍微能做點什麼，合好，趕快彌補……直到下一個循環開始……
現實不是故事，也不像電影，轉折起伏高潮之後，就可以不管後續了，知道的再多，理解的再多，沒有相對應突破困境的能力或資源那麼又彷彿回到了那被強制成為觀眾的那樣，你只能接受一切而無法改變，不管是無法理解的家人，過去行為帶來的困境，還是沒有能好好放手一搏的餘裕，這些都讓我只能站在原地，但思緒卻不曾停止，而這段距離的落差越來越大越來越大。
我們也不是在王道熱血漫畫的世界，只要有決心世界就會回應你（真的我試過了，沒有用），畢竟我還是一個一天要吃一堆藥才能讓自己勉強達到一個所謂”正常人”及格線行動力的卡住狀態，做著家裡攤販的工作，勉強能容忍這樣的有時無法工作狀態，但不是長久之計，外面正常打卡上下班的公司更是別想了，那麼除非我有辦法把唯一能做好能持續的事，想像與創作，打磨到足以維持生活，不然當家裡不再容忍我就依舊只有再次陷入困境，雖然他們對於我想做創作而不是成為他們一樣好好不要思考，做著眼前的事物不要改動不要變化這個想法嗤之以鼻。
「你就是想太多，不認命。」這是我媽的原話。
他的想像之中我應該走的跟他一樣的軌跡，重複一樣的日常，然後再交給下一個復刻一樣規矩的下一代，一代接著一代，但他無法理解的是這不是我所能控制的，每天腦袋的念頭，新的點子，想嘗試的東西，想理解的知識，這一切都停不下來了，所以我用LLM不斷嘗試建構各種東西，包含這裡，雖然一切為零，雖然能證明自己的只有一些零碎的文本跟圖像，但在與LLM學習各種事物的過程，又讓我看到創作與想法得以被正確再次從手中一點一滴建構出來的機會，讓我也開始重拾文字拿起畫筆，也載回了以前大學多媒體專業熟悉的那些軟體，再次的再一團混亂中做點什麼，也想在成就些什麼後，能以自身的力量協助更多的人事物，影響世界鑄造一個不再有人需要經歷這些痛苦的未來。雖然中二，但這就是我。
When does a person begin to think about the existence of the idea of “I”? What has to happen before we start exploring this thing that feels everything, seems to control the body, yet also seems to be controlled by the body, while emotions arise, pain gathers, joy comes and goes, sadness comes and goes, and no one can actually say where this “subjective consciousness” exists? Who is that “I”? What is it?
It sounds like a simple existential crisis, but what I am trying to describe is a very real shock that came from an actual medical experience.
I did not enter psychiatric care for the first time until my twenties. The late diagnosis and the medications that followed seemed to change something, but at the same time almost nothing seemed to change. I kept drifting through the cycle of appointments, prescriptions, and taking medication, while my life remained a mess. Nearly ten years passed in that neither-here-nor-there state. The twists were still the same. Maybe I understood a little more about what was happening, but it did not help. The pain remained. The uncertainty remained.
Then, two years ago, I changed hospitals and doctors, and the medication and treatment strategy changed with them. The difference in my mind and body was so large that even now, looking back, it feels absurd enough that all I can do is laugh. More than thirty years of life, and so much of that suffering might have been avoided by something as small as these few pills, together with the right medical care and knowledge.
At first, the treatment was only one additional pill each day. Within a week, a certain desire-driven pull that had governed me since childhood was suddenly paused...
After the second week, even the frantic impulses that had once felt impossible to control began to loosen. For the first time, there were signs that they could be directed and controlled.
But those things had helped make the person I was in my thirties. They were tied to the preferences, values, inner goals, desires, and outward behavior that had followed me since childhood, many of the very descriptions we use when we say what kind of person someone is. If medication can change those things so easily, then on what basis do we define the self, personality, the soul, or any of the words we use to describe some supposedly unchanging essence of a person?
From then on, the way I looked at the world changed. The goals I pursued changed. The things I wanted to do changed. I became intensely motivated to learn about scientific research, different forms of knowledge, educational resources, and anything else that could help me understand this world. The curiosity has not really stopped.
Reality, however, is not a magic cure from a story or a film, something you take once and then never have problems again. During these two years I have still been struggling with medication tolerance, old habits pushing back, and traps created by long-term problems. Treatment plans and dosages have continued to change month by month through trial, adjustment, and adaptation. Even so, the difference from the confused years before this treatment is unmistakable.
It was a shift from “Why is all of this happening? If I cannot control my body, then why am I made to sit here in this subjective mosh pit and experience all of this pain?” From nothing but confusion, pain, and despair, it changed into: “Through knowledge, I can understand some of the possible reasons behind what I cannot control. I am also experiencing it, observing it, and trying to understand how to intervene in it.” I know that by actively intervening, I may have a chance to change these things little by little.
That difference alone matters. Even when I fall again and again into the same negative cycles, something is left behind each time. A residue accumulates, little by little. That accumulation is part of why there is now something I can show, something that lets me stand here and tell my story.
I am 鄭文宣. You can also call me Eleven.
My story begins in June 1989.
Every birth is something like a lottery draw.
My result was neither especially good nor especially bad, but from a global perspective it may already have been a very good prize, simply because I was born in Taiwan.
My family runs a small food stall on a temple street. My parents were usually busy and emotionally distant, and I grew up half-unsupervised around that street. In that time, place, and family environment, neither my family nor I had ever encountered what we would now call neurodiversity. It was only after I became an adult and discovered that my factory settings were a little unusual that I began to understand the root of why I had grown up through endless hitting and scolding, and why school and so many other environments had repeatedly turned into confusion. It was not what all those labels said, the labels people kept driving into me and tearing open new wounds with. These were phenomena that science could describe, and for which there were logical explanations for why they happened. (There is still a lot we do not know.)
ADHD, learning disabilities, and some other miscellaneous things sound frightening. The problem was that they were not frightening enough. Nothing was obvious enough for someone to look at me and immediately know that this child needed help. Instead, different negative labels came and went throughout my childhood. Luckily, whether because of personality or chance, what emerged was mostly a lonely, strange, overly dramatic version of me. That is about all I can do but laugh at myself.
I became used to being alone. A large part of my values and worldview came from books and from the things humans imagined through them, every kind of writing, along with novels, animation, comics, games, and more. All of that helped keep me alive until today. There is some irony in the fact that only after leaving school, and leaving the age when I could create freely, did I realize that my difficulty becoming skilled at many things, and my difficulty sustaining focus, were also related to those disabilities and to the way my brain was built. But there is no way to return to adolescence and live out the version of my life in which this was noticed and treated early, just to see who I might have become.
No matter how strong the medication is now, it cannot make problems that already happened disappear automatically. It cannot instantly reset habits carved deeply into neural connections over many years. What it gives me is a chance to begin again, a set of possibilities, and some assistance. At the same time, something else entered this journey of change alongside the medication: LLMs, just as they were moving into commercial use and public attention.
In the past, when I still wanted to learn or create despite all kinds of difficulties, I relied on paper dictionaries, electronic dictionaries, reference books, and then later the internet and Google Translate. Now I use LLMs extensively. They help with language, but they also let someone like me, an ordinary person with a university background in digital multimedia rather than science, move through oceans of information across many fields and disciplines while exploring and learning.
Technology did not make my learning disabilities disappear. What it changed was the interface between the disability and the task. A word I could not reliably retrieve can be supplied again. A language-output barrier I could not cross can be worked through by repeated comparison and revision. This is another reason I think the lottery I was born into was already a fairly good one. I had access to medical care. I had access to technology. I also did not have to worry about whether I would have food to eat.
It can look as though everything should be fine now. If I simply keep moving in the right direction, perhaps I can change my own life, and perhaps even help more people?
But why?
Why am I still like this now?
I sit collapsed on the bed, powerless, and look around. Everything is piled everywhere. Trash and miscellaneous objects cover the floor. The routes to the kitchen and the other rooms are blocked by stacks of things. Apart from the double bed, the living room is also occupied by the living spaces of guinea pigs and degus. Every time I open my eyes after waking, I think that this cannot continue, that I need to clean, that I need to go to work and earn money. There are debts. There are bills I have not paid. The medical costs of animals that need long-term care cannot be cut. But... no matter how hard I try, I cannot get up. I know I need to work, go outside, move, clean things up, but I feel awful. I cannot move. I feel hopeless and miserable... Why?
This describes some of the worst moments of 2026. Usually it begins when I have no idea where I left my pill organizer, or when it runs empty and I fail to refill it while I still have enough momentum to do so. Then one morning I fail to take the medication successfully. From there I enter a negative cycle that gets worse day by day, spiraling downward into a black pit. The same sequence repeats until, at some point, my partner, worn down by frustration, starts a fight in anger and grief. Strangely, the adrenaline, guilt, anger, and whatever else comes with it can give me enough momentum to do something. We make up. I hurry to compensate for what happened... until the next cycle begins.
Reality is not a story, and it is not a movie where the plot can simply stop caring about what happens after the turning point, the rise and fall, and the climax. No matter how much I know or understand, if I do not have the ability or resources that correspond to breaking out of the situation, then I am almost back to being forced into the role of an audience member. I can only receive what happens without being able to change it. Family members who cannot understand, difficulties produced by past behavior, and the lack of enough room to truly take a risk all keep me standing in place. My thoughts, however, never stop moving. The distance between the two grows larger and larger.
We do not live in a heroic battle manga either, where if you have enough determination the world will answer you. (I really tried. It does not work.) I am still stuck in a state where I need a pile of pills every day just to barely reach the passing line for what people call a “normal person’s” ability to act. I work at my family’s stall because it can barely tolerate the fact that sometimes I simply cannot work, but that is not a long-term plan. A normal company where I clock in and out on schedule is even less realistic. Unless I can take the one thing I can actually keep doing, imagination and creation, and refine it until it can support a life, then once my family stops tolerating this situation I will simply fall into trouble again. They are dismissive of the fact that I want to create instead of becoming like them, quietly doing whatever is in front of me, not thinking too much, not changing anything, not trying anything different.
“You just think too much. You refuse to accept your lot.” Those are my mother’s exact words.
In her imagination, I should follow the same trajectory she did, repeat the same daily life, and then hand the same rules to the next generation so they can reproduce them again, one generation after another. What she cannot understand is that this is not something I can simply turn off. The thoughts that appear in my head every day, the new ideas, the things I want to try, the knowledge I want to understand, none of it stops anymore. So I keep using LLMs to try to build all kinds of things, including this place. So far everything may amount to zero. The only evidence I can point to may be scattered pieces of text and images. But while learning different things with LLMs, I have also begun to see a chance for ideas and creations to be built correctly again, little by little, with my own hands. I have started writing again. I picked up a drawing tool again. I reinstalled the software I used to know in university as a digital multimedia student. I am once again trying to make something in the middle of a mess. And if I can eventually accomplish something, I want to use whatever strength I gain to help more people and other living things, to affect the world, and to forge a future in which no one has to go through this kind of pain. It may sound embarrassingly dramatic, but that is me.