S
SupremeCel
Recruit
★★★
- Joined
- Mar 12, 2018
- Posts
- 231
someone posted this on r/braincels , the story of a trucel.
it's too fucking good to let it get buried beneath shitposts and low IQ memes.
Hello everyone and I hope you have your fair share in life (don't give up! society hate and downplaying people's feelings shouldn't define who you are, nor beauty standards, nor how to look at the other sex, especially "modern" mores that say men feelings don't matter, or that your natural fantasies craving for the other sex -only a natural motive to make one seek partners and sow seeds for a family with someone who cares- make you immoral and evil. you can find your lot in life, i'm sure, and i am rooting for you.) ... idk if this place is an echo chamber or not, but i meant this genuinely, and not out of pity.
If that wasn't obvious from my handle I'm on my way permanently after posting this. A friend who is a regular here told me about your sub, and asked me to do some translation work for him, so I obliged. I thought it would be fair to share some of it with you since you are interesed, and the subject matter is incredibly obscure. I hope this will bring some enjoyment for you. (Please, don't follow the quoted author's advice here)
For context, the author is Raja Alich (رجاء عليش, google image his name and weep in despair at the artist depictions of him, none accurate) Egyptian, wealthy enough to own two flats and some business, a talented novelist... but ugly, and an incel. His story is extremely tragic.
He only wrote two books, "Don't be born ugly", "Every single one of them is my enemy", and then pointed a gun at his head in his car near his two flats. His suicide note to the general procuror stating his reasons had massive delays. But you probably already know this. I saw your post had only a machine translated tweet, and not the actual books. I'm too lazy for the whole thing, which is a massive blackpill on steroids, but I had some choice quotes translated by yours truly. They occasionally pop up on arabian social media as extremely potent demotivational posters.
Here goes nothing:
Fear was copulating, multiplying within his heart, as he was walking hollowly to a fateful unavoidable end... He knew he will stumble on a wall of explosives somewhere in this road, and he'll become smithereens and all the dreams he stored within his heart will scatter.
Sometimes he felt like an ultra fragile protozea living in a shell submerged under crushing depths of water... tortured by a cruel feeling of loneliness... of longing for the other sex... for the exciting lustful touch of the female... for her sweat's stench... for her carnal naughtiness... for her sluttiness... for that mythical world she lived in and he couldn't come close to as much as he wanted despite the passing of all the exceedingly stretched-out years of his life... he finds within him no shame anymore as he crosses the bridge of 40 years -the bridge of no return between youth and old age- to yell as loud as his voice can, asking to get a woman... just one woman... his intimate needs are much stronger than his dignity... than his self-respect, but not even that one woman ever existed in his life.
My God Do Not Forgive Them, For They Know What They Are Doing.
Who sells me a heart, so I sells them words?
I am a man with no woman... with no field to sow seeds of wheat... with no ball to play with... with no shining memories... with no path for the future.
God please spare my tortured soul from the torment of a reader who takes my words too lightly (flatly)... a critic devoid of conscience... a printing house that doesn't work (bankrupt/banned)... and an apathetic society like an undisturbed lake of oil.
I am but an acrobat treading on a thin precarious thread called life.
My heart is a dehydrated lemon sucked dry by hungry humans, and even hungrier days. If you want my company in this flight, then wear feathers like mine, take with you for this journey some of my food laced with suffering, let the blazing fires scorch your skin, and ascend with me skywards to the void of space for it is our path... our domain.
I describe myself to you: I am the scorned to the core of my bones... the forsaken, chased, cast away until the final edges of the world... I am the mocking laughter that never fades out on the lips of thers... I am who is munched then spitted by looking eyes with the speed of a machine gun... I am he who is coerced to apologize for my looks everytime he sees a human eye... I am the looming moon (of beauty) that has no fields to make home as its backdrop... The only star to send a shimmering light that reaches no eye... The human cyrogenized in sub-zero cold temperatures yet his heart still beats with life and my mind still sparkles and radiates... I am the lost lamb that whenever it tries to approach the flock is met with the stick... I am he who is lost and he who makes people lost in the way... I am loss incarnate.
The weird thing about humans is that they punish the ugly person for a crime he never committed, but was committed on him by unknown demonic powers to be that could have inflicted the same suffering on them but they miraculously survived that lottery, with a happy coincidence in their lives... all of them punish hum... all the time... until the very end of his life.
This is one of the perks of the extra attractiveness... to be believed by all people as you boldly lie on them, but the scorned ugly person by everyone won't ever be believed even if he said the truth... He is accused by everyone of being a liar... an eternal suspect because he's the odd one out, the freak, the eyesore.
Even then they say this world is still fair and merciful, and that humans are simple-minded and tolerant... These same kind humans can perfectly justify all the savage crimes of this world... and I name in particular the crime of killing the spirits of a human who has the right to live as everyone else.
When they fail at convincing you of their logic, their passive complicit deviously evil logic, they will tell you this with an extreme and gut-wrenchingly disgusting simplicity. You shall get what you're owed in the afterlife where all the rivers of honey and milk are, and where on their warm shores lie in pleasure all the scum of the earth, those disaster struck unfortunate scum who didn't get their fair share in life.
Since you asked, this is a preview of the first book. It's... something else. The blackpill was a bit much for me, even for the introduction (17 pages), so I stopped. The book is 220 pages and it gets more and more extreme.
Don't be born ugly
Dedicated to...
To the sun that disappeared in the sunset then the world became dark and snow fell and covered the earth in frost and buried the tiny green plants bearing the seeds of the future... To the loving chest I was resting my head on as it was tired and exhausted and weighed down by the sadness of my life and dozens of dreams and ideas bigger than me... To the heart that loved me when the world hated me... That held me in esteem as the world scorned me in disdain... to the fingers of the hand whose palm tirelessly held an olive branch with bottomless generosity, that held me from drowning in the gargantuan swamp engulfing my surroundings... To the kind and wise eyes that didn't saw me as a massive joke but as a human with a heart and a mind of his own... Saw me as a shard from the sun clouded by thick clouds but surely becoming complete in the future... as a genius intellect forming in the midst of violent torrents of general stupidity and apathy... To the only warmth I knew in my life... To the only kind loving smile in my life... To the only revolution of the intelligent mind in a scary and mad world... To the green and generous memory that will never die out in my life... To my mother, I dedicate these pages.
P7.
So he said.
Let me describe you myself:
I am a man with no woman... with no fields to sow seeds of wheat... with no bottle of wine... with no ball to play with... with no shining memories... with no path to the future.
On my grave will be inscribed these words: "Here lies a man who died during his life."
I am a man followed by laughs and stray dogs... Laughs from people, and curses/calls like a dog/sicking dogs on him (?? unclear)
I am a man cursed by the woman on the street and loved on the bedsheets.
I am a king in the clothes of a beggar. An intellectual playing with the toy of a small child... A clown who tries to take out the mask of comedy from his face futilely because Nature welded it there well for it to remain applied there forever.
I think as if I dream, and dream as if I think.
You are "so nice" like a perch for pigeons to gather at... "pleasant" like a cigar after lunch... "a delight" like that parrot I raise at home to tell me nice little jokes all the times... "kind" like a cuddly cat rubbing on my feet and jumping on my knees... You are "totally just like a real brother"... or so I am always told by women.
I am faithful... kind... courageous... like a sentient dog like a dunce.
My God you sent me to a world I feel intense shame for my self whenever I see myself on the eyes of others... or from the myriads of reflective surfaces you filled your universe with... maybe on purpose... to further humiliate me... to make me feel worthless even more... My God... I won't ask you for your reasons... there's no doubt you had good ones... but I will ask you... Did you really mean it? ... Did you really seek that?
P.8
My Sun... she who I ask... I lived in darkness all the years of my life... I hope you will suddenly shine on my life to dispel all of that darkness surrounding me... to ravitalize with warmth my withered deceased leaves... Our meet-up... shall be the horizon... at any time and place you choose. (A letter yet to be sent to my loved girl)
Father... me being your son prevents me from hating you... I don't think that I really hate you... but I can't forgive you for bringing me to a world that bears me intense animosity to the core of its bone... You created me an odd foreign one O Father as I look for harmony in a world filled with chaos... I suffer... I suffer always alone on the rhythm of the laughs and mockery of other... Maybe this is why, my Father, I didn't make the same mistake with children from my own... from our own, both of us... one tragedy is more than enough, isn't it true father?
My Son... I didn't create you... Don't you understand? I don't have a plant to produce children within me or even outside my self... Look at me, I can't even create even a small finger... Son... Do you yet understand?... I just transported you... From the world of the unknown to the world of the sensory... Maybe this was my biggest sin in your opinion, but i didn't create you... do you understand me... i didn't create you... I am just a postman who was entrusted with transporting a letter from a place to another... who has no responsibility whether the letter was sad or crimson blood red violent... do you now understand me my son? (A dialog that never took place between me and my father)
Introduction
These pages are about the strangest problem in my life, the problem of ugliness... you can think of the weirdest freak in the world in your imagination... the ugliest face you can meet anywhere, so you make sure you see me in front of you... Ever the ever-freaky laughterstock... Ever the strangest... the most outrageously abhorrent... the ugliest.
Ugliness is the core idea around which all my life and feelings are centered about, I start from there and finish there, so it's the first station and the terminus for me... Ugliness is that black ash piling on all atoms of specks of niceties and pleasure of my life, which it taints with its dark dreadful grey color... it's the black light that radiates in all directions of my life preventing clear transparent vision for people and men.
In these pages i will try and analyse the phenomena of ugliness as my lived experience, for no one lived ugliness as i did... nor felt its cruelties and bloody violence as i did.
Unattractiveness in my opinion is like a prism of transparent glass with many flat surfaces and angles, and I will try to provide an exhaustive panorama from all planes and angles of this formidable prism that projects black light in all directions of my life, poisoning it all irremediably and destroying all of its aesthetics.
P.10
I came close to ugliness like no other human in this world... so close i could touch and feel his hot breath on me, unattractiveness is my relentlessly vicious best friend who I lived with... within me or within him all my life... his kinks and fits of temper no longer scare me... the kinds of deprivation and torture and freakiness he inflicts me with in all instants of my life don't defeat me... it infuses me with an immense power for competitiveness... Unattractiveness is my eyes that gave up on vision... My tense nerves that atrophied... my cells that reached old age before their prime... My skin that frowned and wrinkled (withered).
I felt the horror of the discovery within the first instants of conscience in my life... my tiny fingers felt the skin of a mythical horrible beast and that realization dawned on me with intense dread and horror submerging my heart from the very first instant.
I lived ugliness in moments full of pain and horrible psychological torture... Broken friendships... Destroyed hopes... Perpetual and cruel escape from fearsome demonic powers chasing me.
I hated ugliness like no other human in the world because i knew it like no other... for ugliness did with no man as it did with me... the amount of destruction, misfortune and inhumanity... Look at all my problems and ugliness will be behind it... Those evil puppeteer fingers moving the threads of my life.
Sometimes I imagine ugliness is a continuous sequence of explosions in my life, but amazingly enough, i didn't shatter yet or fall in pieces on earth, I am made from a rapidly self wielding, self regenerating material, resistant against the most extreme chocks and explosions.
What I saw... what I lived, is far from the believable. If a man had the foresight to tell the future and told me in the very beginning of my life that humans will reach this much stupidity, self-centered hubris, and savagery, i would have said he wants to scare me, but i lived the tragedy for myself and met everything.
P.11
After a long experience in life, I came to the conclusion that ugliness isn't a mere strange phenomena that stirs people's laughter and mockery and just that, but closer than anything else to a real crippling degenerative disease that the unattractive person is inflicted with so it destroys and mangles in his life what those diseases usually do, and i even believe now that ugliness may be very well the cruelest disease and the most painful and destructive for the human soul among everything else. Because, the ugly person doesn't stir pity from people, kindness, empathy with his plight... but rather triggers a revulsion of brutal feelings... every speck of their judgemental critical sense is directed with raw violence towards this man seeking to destroy his spirits and humiliate him.
They are standing bewildered at a weird freaky event they can't comprehend... one that unearths all the feelings of hatred within them, all the bitter fruits of tragedy that the ugly person becomes the victim of the outpour thereof eventually.
But if we said ugliness is a crippling disease destorying man's life, what's strange is that man feels no impotence preventing him from living and enjoying life to the fullest like others... just feeling a transparent invisible barrier preventing him from belonging... man-made by those who bear him hatred and evil intent just for being different and ugly.
Humans, being the stupid lot they usually are, are those who make from a predicament that's at worst only a source of shame and no more, a deep tragedy they inflate... a cruel kind of diseases that could be traditionally classified as one, as it has the same tragic, cruel and bloody consequences.
(...)
P.12
I have now faith that ugliness is an eternal curse ugly men are inflicted with and remains with him to the very end of his life. A slow fulfilled eventuality, amazing and awe-strucking, in all the ways life can be miserable and bad... with no recourse, escape, or salvation from. A weird man-made Bastille (french prison) man lives in until his life is extinguished.
(...)
P.14
(...)
Humans conspired to realize a formidably cruel result in my life... to freeze me anchored in my spot... I am immobile incapable of taking a single step forward... I never loved, never worked, never married, never had kids... Like a reef rock in an ocean of loud waves.
Now I feel i reached the lowest depths of the abyss, because it became more than bewilderment in eyes to intentional calleous rudeness... Insults, disapproving cries, sneers and whistling in mockery, all follow me every place i come to... they spit violently on the floor whenever i come close to them as their faces are filled with the most extreme expressions of hatred... in their eyes i am accused of all ugly accusations, i'm a madman, queer, freak, stupid, ugly, and this makes me question the meaning of justice, of humanity.
I think if ever saw the divine in the moments of intensely horrible sadness in my life, i would not hesitate to take a gun and shoot, for what the divine did to me is a crime that can't be ever forgiven... If invadors came to my town whose heart died, i would open the doors for them wide open... with no animosity or weapons held against thems whatsoever, and my only reason would be that they will bring the most humiliating suffering and shame to those people I hate from the depths of my soul.
P.15
How can I defend a town that hates me... that wishes me continuous shame... a town where i have no single circle of a safe haven of warm love, with only a tiny speck from the sun that shines whole on its people... a sun that never reaches my room... whose moon never looks at my fields... Damned cruel little children pick my flowers and step on them with their feet... A town where i have no single woman who loves me... A human who i belong to, or who belongs to me... a single child who bears my name and my legacy... how can i defend a town i am feeling blood-freezing fear doing my simplest chores in its streets that bear the maximal degrees of hatred and madness... a hatred that emits from its origins and almost unroots me... a hatred that became my daily meal.
(...)
someone should REALLY translate this book, I hope op posts more.
