The feeling is obvious for attractive guys, seeing them reminds me of how far behind I am. It's even worse when every face he makes, even silly retarded ones, contort to new chaddy forms that end up unsettlingly more perfect. Their entire visual character is a case study in seamless sexual dominance, as if their body knew what it was doing when growing each immaculate feature.
Still, I can cope long enough between these encounters imagining that via some miraculous boon of disciplined initiative I may one day ascend, looksmax, and escape jealousy I run into at every turn baring one these genetic gods. I can work myself up to a point where I believe that my own will will make anything possible.
However, that hope dies whenever I see an incredibly ugly man. Their painfully malformed visage bears no semblance to any remote impression of sexual value, it's like a bad joke. Often the same cause their face ends up so tragically leads their bodies down the same path, as they are often physically weak, poorly proportioned, and feminine in the worst ways.
Seeing them reminds me that hope is not offered unilaterally, that the rare beautiful peaks of our worldly chaos are not rendered freely to everyone. I am reminded how ugly I am, and how I am no more a human than a slug a competitor in a footrace. Some, by either genes, environmental hazards, or plain bad luck, end up at the bottom of a bottomless pit. We must suffer, and will always suffer for no good other than the fact we have only happened to survive thus far. Our hopes are not real, in the sense that we often delude ourselves and believe that things ought to happen if we wish them hard enough, that we have trusted futures in store in return for our virtues.
Some people, even the smartest, hardest working, and most virtuous, will end up living a life 10000x worse than a serial rapist with a good jaw. There's no karma, no justice, no benign machinations of our sensibly operated society.
The world doesn't spare innocent victims of war and torture, am I really dumb enough to believe it would spare a mild mannered loser from a 7 decades of depressive emptiness?
Still, I can cope long enough between these encounters imagining that via some miraculous boon of disciplined initiative I may one day ascend, looksmax, and escape jealousy I run into at every turn baring one these genetic gods. I can work myself up to a point where I believe that my own will will make anything possible.
However, that hope dies whenever I see an incredibly ugly man. Their painfully malformed visage bears no semblance to any remote impression of sexual value, it's like a bad joke. Often the same cause their face ends up so tragically leads their bodies down the same path, as they are often physically weak, poorly proportioned, and feminine in the worst ways.
Seeing them reminds me that hope is not offered unilaterally, that the rare beautiful peaks of our worldly chaos are not rendered freely to everyone. I am reminded how ugly I am, and how I am no more a human than a slug a competitor in a footrace. Some, by either genes, environmental hazards, or plain bad luck, end up at the bottom of a bottomless pit. We must suffer, and will always suffer for no good other than the fact we have only happened to survive thus far. Our hopes are not real, in the sense that we often delude ourselves and believe that things ought to happen if we wish them hard enough, that we have trusted futures in store in return for our virtues.
Some people, even the smartest, hardest working, and most virtuous, will end up living a life 10000x worse than a serial rapist with a good jaw. There's no karma, no justice, no benign machinations of our sensibly operated society.
The world doesn't spare innocent victims of war and torture, am I really dumb enough to believe it would spare a mild mannered loser from a 7 decades of depressive emptiness?
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