LeDepravedCel
And then one day, for no reason at all...
★★★★★
- Joined
- Jun 27, 2020
- Posts
- 8,373
I'm in my late twenties now. Ten years ago I could never have anticipated that I'd be in this position. Yes, I was already an outcast incel, but at least I had a sense of optimism that things would magically turn out for the better somehow at some point. That, of course, never actually happened.
Surely the possibility occurred to me that I would stay alone forever. Yet I had assumed that, as you age, you come to make peace with your fate, embrace your loneliness, and rid yourself of your innate desires. This, too, never happened. That said, I do notice that my desired have changed to some extent. Back then, I mainly desired sex; over time, my sexual drive went down, and by now I really just desire love. I come home from work and I wish for someone to be happy that I'm back home. I fall ill and I wish for someone to care for me. One day, I will not recover; and I wish for someone to be with me as I draw my last breath.
A long time ago, I met an old, ugly man who had terminal cancer. I vividly remember him describing the biggest challenge that he faced: It wasn't the chemotherapy, but what came right after. He'd be bedridden by the treatment, but because he never married nor had living relatives, there was absolutely no-one in the universe to support him in these times. He'd force himself out of bed, because if he doesn't make himself some half-assed dinner, no-one will.
The prospect of such a fate scared me; it seemed worse than death itself. Yet here I am, following in his footsteps. I wonder if he will recognise me when we meet again in Hell.
Surely the possibility occurred to me that I would stay alone forever. Yet I had assumed that, as you age, you come to make peace with your fate, embrace your loneliness, and rid yourself of your innate desires. This, too, never happened. That said, I do notice that my desired have changed to some extent. Back then, I mainly desired sex; over time, my sexual drive went down, and by now I really just desire love. I come home from work and I wish for someone to be happy that I'm back home. I fall ill and I wish for someone to care for me. One day, I will not recover; and I wish for someone to be with me as I draw my last breath.
A long time ago, I met an old, ugly man who had terminal cancer. I vividly remember him describing the biggest challenge that he faced: It wasn't the chemotherapy, but what came right after. He'd be bedridden by the treatment, but because he never married nor had living relatives, there was absolutely no-one in the universe to support him in these times. He'd force himself out of bed, because if he doesn't make himself some half-assed dinner, no-one will.
The prospect of such a fate scared me; it seemed worse than death itself. Yet here I am, following in his footsteps. I wonder if he will recognise me when we meet again in Hell.
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