Sometimes I accept my fate, women don't want me, and I'll never be loved; there is nothing I can do but come to terms with it. But it takes a few hours to come back to where I started, because that's just the human spirit. Tolerance is the only logical solution: "allow the existence, occurrence, or practice of (something that one dislikes or disagrees with) without interference," however, I never claimed to be logical. The truth is, I hate myself. No matter how much I try to tell myself it's not my fault to be born incel, it's difficult not to put the blame on me when seemingly everyone else does. You might call me weak-minded, and I'd agree fully.
I just wish I was Chad, even a normie, but that's not possible, and that makes me feel extremely impotent and defeated.
I want to stay inside all day, because people hate me for something out of my control, and what else am I meant to do? Talk to people? They are the ones that don't want to talk to me for fuck's sake! But yet, I feel like I'm not doing enough, maybe it actually is my fault, maybe I should just try... And when I try to try, I fail, because I'm not the one that's not putting in the effort, but everyone else is putting in the effort to not be around me. It's a vicious cycle: Be inside all day, blame myself for my loneliness, try to reach out, nobody cares, be inside all day..
I suffer the curse of being self aware enough to know what's happening, self aware enough to know that I can't do anything about it, but not self aware enough to accept that nothing can be done. Fuck me and this shitty 5'8 jawlineless hideous body I was put into without my consent. I keep moving the date of when I want to end it all because I'm not suicidal, yet don't want to do shit in this awful world, and I'd much rather be dead than spending a single fucking year more like this.
I don't even want to die, I just want things to be different, but they never will. At 14, I thought by 18 I'd finally do it. Now at 19, I am waiting for 21. I am certain that at 21, I'll be betting for 25. The road ahead feels the same, I'll always be the fucking ugly loser I have been since I was born. The world goes on, and it will go on without me. At least normies, women, and Chad felt the fleeting spark of a happy life in the never-ending darkness of existence. We all rot the same when we are in the wooden box, but at least before that, they were able to be happy.
But I will keep being the loser. I'll keep being the punching bag. I'll keep being the background character to the background characters. I'll never be anything, I won't be the protagonist of any story, I won't be anyone's, and certainly I will not be loved. And if someone can't be loved, the only two options are to be hated or to be apathized, and I am not sure which one is worse.
Normies often insult me, call me out, as they say, by saying I only want pity. I do. I do want pity, because if I am being pitied, you are telling me that it's not my fault and that there is nothing that I can do. Even if you are lying to me, I'd rather be told that, as I hate myself too much to trust my own judgment, if everyone disagrees. But no, you don't give a shit, you will only give me your half assed fairy tale generic advice and tell me to try, or try to recruit me into your nazi bullshit, or your woke bullshit, or whatever bull you follow's shit.
And then when I complain, they tell me it's my fault, I hate everyone so fucking much. They tell me I'm emotional when it's my emotions that we are literally talking about. The consequences of incelibacy are emotional after all.
Sometimes I tell myself I was cut for this, that I am God's strongest warrior, that the best comebacks come when there seem to be no odds, that even if things are though I was born to struggle, that I'll drag myself through the mud because I have the fucking claw to do it, that I will do the best I can to survive because I am a warrior and I deserve the world for being through so much, that the stars have my name written on them... But who the fuck am I even kidding? I am nobody, I'll die at the same place I was born, I'll spend 50 more years or so being miserable, and then I'll return to the dirt, to be stepped on as I have been my entire life. Dreaming is free, but everything free is also worthless.
One lifetime wasted, just because of the wrong genetics. I deserve better. But there's nothing I can do...
When I was in high school, I was the "little miss perfect" guy, straight As, no addictions, no drama... I was also very antisocial, though. "Well, I might have no life and no friends, but at least I'll get my degree and get into a high paying job," I told myself. Well, I'm in uni now, and my grades fucking suck. I used to be the smart guy with no friends, now I am the dumb guy with no friends. Oh, how badly I played my cards...
I keep trying to make things better, but nothing is enough. The cards keep falling, but is it even in my control if they are oiled up and placed on ice? It's literally torture, I technically can still try, and I won't forgive myself for not trying. But in the end, it doesn't really matter...
I just wish I was Chad, even a normie, but that's not possible, and that makes me feel extremely impotent and defeated.
I want to stay inside all day, because people hate me for something out of my control, and what else am I meant to do? Talk to people? They are the ones that don't want to talk to me for fuck's sake! But yet, I feel like I'm not doing enough, maybe it actually is my fault, maybe I should just try... And when I try to try, I fail, because I'm not the one that's not putting in the effort, but everyone else is putting in the effort to not be around me. It's a vicious cycle: Be inside all day, blame myself for my loneliness, try to reach out, nobody cares, be inside all day..
I suffer the curse of being self aware enough to know what's happening, self aware enough to know that I can't do anything about it, but not self aware enough to accept that nothing can be done. Fuck me and this shitty 5'8 jawlineless hideous body I was put into without my consent. I keep moving the date of when I want to end it all because I'm not suicidal, yet don't want to do shit in this awful world, and I'd much rather be dead than spending a single fucking year more like this.
I don't even want to die, I just want things to be different, but they never will. At 14, I thought by 18 I'd finally do it. Now at 19, I am waiting for 21. I am certain that at 21, I'll be betting for 25. The road ahead feels the same, I'll always be the fucking ugly loser I have been since I was born. The world goes on, and it will go on without me. At least normies, women, and Chad felt the fleeting spark of a happy life in the never-ending darkness of existence. We all rot the same when we are in the wooden box, but at least before that, they were able to be happy.
But I will keep being the loser. I'll keep being the punching bag. I'll keep being the background character to the background characters. I'll never be anything, I won't be the protagonist of any story, I won't be anyone's, and certainly I will not be loved. And if someone can't be loved, the only two options are to be hated or to be apathized, and I am not sure which one is worse.
Normies often insult me, call me out, as they say, by saying I only want pity. I do. I do want pity, because if I am being pitied, you are telling me that it's not my fault and that there is nothing that I can do. Even if you are lying to me, I'd rather be told that, as I hate myself too much to trust my own judgment, if everyone disagrees. But no, you don't give a shit, you will only give me your half assed fairy tale generic advice and tell me to try, or try to recruit me into your nazi bullshit, or your woke bullshit, or whatever bull you follow's shit.
And then when I complain, they tell me it's my fault, I hate everyone so fucking much. They tell me I'm emotional when it's my emotions that we are literally talking about. The consequences of incelibacy are emotional after all.
Sometimes I tell myself I was cut for this, that I am God's strongest warrior, that the best comebacks come when there seem to be no odds, that even if things are though I was born to struggle, that I'll drag myself through the mud because I have the fucking claw to do it, that I will do the best I can to survive because I am a warrior and I deserve the world for being through so much, that the stars have my name written on them... But who the fuck am I even kidding? I am nobody, I'll die at the same place I was born, I'll spend 50 more years or so being miserable, and then I'll return to the dirt, to be stepped on as I have been my entire life. Dreaming is free, but everything free is also worthless.
One lifetime wasted, just because of the wrong genetics. I deserve better. But there's nothing I can do...
When I was in high school, I was the "little miss perfect" guy, straight As, no addictions, no drama... I was also very antisocial, though. "Well, I might have no life and no friends, but at least I'll get my degree and get into a high paying job," I told myself. Well, I'm in uni now, and my grades fucking suck. I used to be the smart guy with no friends, now I am the dumb guy with no friends. Oh, how badly I played my cards...
I keep trying to make things better, but nothing is enough. The cards keep falling, but is it even in my control if they are oiled up and placed on ice? It's literally torture, I technically can still try, and I won't forgive myself for not trying. But in the end, it doesn't really matter...
