For the past month I’ve been deep in the forum, learning about the blackpill. One concept stuck with me: determinism — the idea that events happen because of prior causes. I related to it because I can’t feel across a wide spectrum; anxiety is the main emotion I get. Attraction feels like a sharp pain in my chest and a tightness whenever I think of someone I like. It all feels predetermined, like everything else. I didn’t choose to start this “race”; I was just born without the most basic things.
I lived oblivious to girls until I was 14. Between 14 and 16 I tried with four girls — none of those worked out, and it pushed me into depression. I got into university at 15 and it became lonelier. I made three friends in my apartment building who helped at first; I got somewhat attached and didn’t want to leave their apartments at night. But they needed space for their partners and other friends, and eventually I had to step back. Going back to my room knowing they all had people to go to was depressing.
I isolated myself and tried to “fix” things. I went through a self-improvement phase: working out, doing chores, trying to improve my personality, studying hard, and attempting to talk to more girls. I couldn’t keep it up — I barely had emotional support, and I couldn’t feel much even from my parents because of this emotional disconnect.
I fell into depression again and spent months learning about my tendencies, perspectives, and reactions. I was especially confused by how hard girls seemed to be. Seeking to understand them led me here.
I became short-sighted and took the blackpill on relationships. I was doom-scrolling one night until my feed went schizo — politics, conspiracies, news, studies, my whole environment collapsed into one overwhelming mess. I felt paranoid that night. It all felt over: the system was broken, and philosophies, concepts, and beliefs like “choice” felt like illusions serving the system and “them.” It seemed like we’re screwed over not only by genetic determinism but by a complex human-made system.
Relationships, love, and romance began to look like tools to separate people. The strata became clear:
Bluepilled — the masses who can get into relationships and live fairly decent lives. They are the most important cog in the system: the workforce and the consumers. They can be smart, even aware to some extent, but they remain susceptible to the psyop. They can’t see the raw machinery behind reality.
Redpilled — those who fail at relationships and throw themselves into self-improvement. They aim for stability and success. Some of them eventually succeed, but even then, they still play the game: chasing women, chasing more success, and only partly aware of the system. Others fail and remain stuck in the grind.
Blackpilled — those who fail harder or grow jaded from negative experiences. They end up here. Some chase success for personal reasons, some work only to afford copes, some go NEET.
In short: it feels like everything is accounted for. No matter what we do — even death — it’s all accounted for. Awareness doesn’t equal power; the strata feel the same because of those hidden forces.
We point fingers at “they”: women, countries, religion, patriarchy — a lot of targets. Those answers weren’t satisfying to me; they traced back to inherent human selfishness and patterns that interweave.
I don’t see a way out. I can’t give advice because everyone’s experience is unique. I plan to finish university, work toward a job, and actively decide not to think about suicide.
Ultimately it all seems to amount to the same thing — different faces of one abstract pattern — so even the harshest experiences stop feeling uniquely crushing.
I lived oblivious to girls until I was 14. Between 14 and 16 I tried with four girls — none of those worked out, and it pushed me into depression. I got into university at 15 and it became lonelier. I made three friends in my apartment building who helped at first; I got somewhat attached and didn’t want to leave their apartments at night. But they needed space for their partners and other friends, and eventually I had to step back. Going back to my room knowing they all had people to go to was depressing.
I isolated myself and tried to “fix” things. I went through a self-improvement phase: working out, doing chores, trying to improve my personality, studying hard, and attempting to talk to more girls. I couldn’t keep it up — I barely had emotional support, and I couldn’t feel much even from my parents because of this emotional disconnect.
I fell into depression again and spent months learning about my tendencies, perspectives, and reactions. I was especially confused by how hard girls seemed to be. Seeking to understand them led me here.
I became short-sighted and took the blackpill on relationships. I was doom-scrolling one night until my feed went schizo — politics, conspiracies, news, studies, my whole environment collapsed into one overwhelming mess. I felt paranoid that night. It all felt over: the system was broken, and philosophies, concepts, and beliefs like “choice” felt like illusions serving the system and “them.” It seemed like we’re screwed over not only by genetic determinism but by a complex human-made system.
Relationships, love, and romance began to look like tools to separate people. The strata became clear:
Bluepilled — the masses who can get into relationships and live fairly decent lives. They are the most important cog in the system: the workforce and the consumers. They can be smart, even aware to some extent, but they remain susceptible to the psyop. They can’t see the raw machinery behind reality.
Redpilled — those who fail at relationships and throw themselves into self-improvement. They aim for stability and success. Some of them eventually succeed, but even then, they still play the game: chasing women, chasing more success, and only partly aware of the system. Others fail and remain stuck in the grind.
Blackpilled — those who fail harder or grow jaded from negative experiences. They end up here. Some chase success for personal reasons, some work only to afford copes, some go NEET.
In short: it feels like everything is accounted for. No matter what we do — even death — it’s all accounted for. Awareness doesn’t equal power; the strata feel the same because of those hidden forces.
We point fingers at “they”: women, countries, religion, patriarchy — a lot of targets. Those answers weren’t satisfying to me; they traced back to inherent human selfishness and patterns that interweave.
I don’t see a way out. I can’t give advice because everyone’s experience is unique. I plan to finish university, work toward a job, and actively decide not to think about suicide.
Ultimately it all seems to amount to the same thing — different faces of one abstract pattern — so even the harshest experiences stop feeling uniquely crushing.
