Dusk
It's over.
-
- Joined
- Feb 15, 2024
- Posts
- 14,647
Days tick on by and I feel like I've achieved nothing; only for more days to siphon past my fingers as I try and recuperate my thoughts.
It feels like you're a donkey and you have to hallucinate your own carrot and stick. At least as an incel, there's no incentive to improve. Your face stains any and all hard work you could possibly put in. People associate your ugliness with whatever accomplishments you make, and it renders it all futile.
A tall handsome chad could breathe and be swarmed with opportunities and women that like him. A foid could accomplish something big and it would be celebrated simply due to the fact that she's female. A normie can network and 'find their passion', and they would be accepted with some effort. For an incel, there's nothing but the cold grip of the grind, we're dispensable, disposable, left out to bake like garbage rotting in the sun - any achievements are overshadowed by the topology of our skull and the mesh of flesh on our faces.
I put in the work, I did the research, I tried to improve myself... but there's nothing waiting for me. There is no goal to chase, no kiss on the cheek, no handshake or pat on the back. After all of that self-improvement, I find myself in exactly the same position as when I started - looking in the mirror, wondering why it had to be this way.
It feels like you're a donkey and you have to hallucinate your own carrot and stick. At least as an incel, there's no incentive to improve. Your face stains any and all hard work you could possibly put in. People associate your ugliness with whatever accomplishments you make, and it renders it all futile.
A tall handsome chad could breathe and be swarmed with opportunities and women that like him. A foid could accomplish something big and it would be celebrated simply due to the fact that she's female. A normie can network and 'find their passion', and they would be accepted with some effort. For an incel, there's nothing but the cold grip of the grind, we're dispensable, disposable, left out to bake like garbage rotting in the sun - any achievements are overshadowed by the topology of our skull and the mesh of flesh on our faces.
I put in the work, I did the research, I tried to improve myself... but there's nothing waiting for me. There is no goal to chase, no kiss on the cheek, no handshake or pat on the back. After all of that self-improvement, I find myself in exactly the same position as when I started - looking in the mirror, wondering why it had to be this way.
Last edited: