Zer0/∞
Incelius Savage is The Godfather of Inceldom
★★★★★
- Joined
- Jul 23, 2021
- Posts
- 22,561
I feel my presence at home, even with my family is unwanted: my younger brother views me as a mentally ill freak and refuses to even talk to me, only insulting me every chance he gets, my father only wants me to be gone in a year, out of state, to enroll for college, something no other Bengali father forces onto his sons, and my mother is still the delusional shizophrenic she is, even with the new medication she takes, trying to show me videos of child sex trafficking on the news and how the world is not a safe place.
Do my parents even care at the state of their eldest son, me, anymore: no friends, can barely speak or walk properly, and just lays down on the floor motionless in the room he shares with his mother in complete darkness?
I don’t even have a proper identity to connect me to anyone, anymore: they refuse to teach the culture of my motherland, where I was even born and I can’t fit into American society either: I feel complete alienation by just living.
I am even an outcast in my ethnic Bangladeshi neighborhood: most here haven’t seen me in over 7 years and have already forgotten my name.
Everything feels cold, out of place, and blurry now; I am fixated by the image of my own reflection: all I want is the confirmation of my own existence, a sense of belonging in some form.
Do my parents even care at the state of their eldest son, me, anymore: no friends, can barely speak or walk properly, and just lays down on the floor motionless in the room he shares with his mother in complete darkness?
I don’t even have a proper identity to connect me to anyone, anymore: they refuse to teach the culture of my motherland, where I was even born and I can’t fit into American society either: I feel complete alienation by just living.
I am even an outcast in my ethnic Bangladeshi neighborhood: most here haven’t seen me in over 7 years and have already forgotten my name.
Everything feels cold, out of place, and blurry now; I am fixated by the image of my own reflection: all I want is the confirmation of my own existence, a sense of belonging in some form.
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