M
Chewing over those dastardly days sitting through sex ed at my rural conservative high school while the teacher was banging Stacy, literally, and the religious upbringing that hammered into my depleted brain all the negative aspects of sex and relationships before marriage, I became a passerby during the prime years of my life... god damnit, some people are truecels through and through, others are blue pilled normies who decay and atomize into a sub5 hellscape, I think I had a little of both in me. Now I'm just a disabled shortcel.
I wasn't bad looking enough for people to be repulsed, but I was always rejected because I asked out the popular girls who always chose tall jocks. I had the wrong kind of confidence. I was the bona fide risk taking jestermaxxing clown whose absurdities were so out-there police officers would drive by me with my pants down in the middle of road and think nothing of it—I became a walking comedy show.
That was the only way I could fit in. Be heard, have a semblance of community. Make people laugh, make fun of myself and others—always irrational and absurd to the point of total ego death.
It became lonely knowing that I couldn't really connect with anyone.
If for instance I said nigger or told a teacher Hitler was the best man that ever lived, it was only because "it was me." Consider this, if a normie or Chad did what I did, they'd have been thrown out of class regularly or expelled. It felt like I had free reign to say whatever I wanted because... nobody took me seriously, nobody actually cared about me, I was a clown, a relief valve meant for normies to see the absurdities of life. If I died there and then... nobody but my parents would have cared.
Then adulthood came... no more jestermaxxing. Somehow being the class clown ironically made me severely neurodivergent—I can't even hold a conversation with a normie for more than a minute, let alone a girl who I like.
It's ok, I'm short and sub5 now, so all I have left is copes. At least I'm not being brutally tortured alive.
Oh wait
I wasn't bad looking enough for people to be repulsed, but I was always rejected because I asked out the popular girls who always chose tall jocks. I had the wrong kind of confidence. I was the bona fide risk taking jestermaxxing clown whose absurdities were so out-there police officers would drive by me with my pants down in the middle of road and think nothing of it—I became a walking comedy show.
That was the only way I could fit in. Be heard, have a semblance of community. Make people laugh, make fun of myself and others—always irrational and absurd to the point of total ego death.
It became lonely knowing that I couldn't really connect with anyone.
If for instance I said nigger or told a teacher Hitler was the best man that ever lived, it was only because "it was me." Consider this, if a normie or Chad did what I did, they'd have been thrown out of class regularly or expelled. It felt like I had free reign to say whatever I wanted because... nobody took me seriously, nobody actually cared about me, I was a clown, a relief valve meant for normies to see the absurdities of life. If I died there and then... nobody but my parents would have cared.
Then adulthood came... no more jestermaxxing. Somehow being the class clown ironically made me severely neurodivergent—I can't even hold a conversation with a normie for more than a minute, let alone a girl who I like.
It's ok, I'm short and sub5 now, so all I have left is copes. At least I'm not being brutally tortured alive.
Oh wait
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