I know that maybe nobody is interested in this, but I had the need to create this post after that little suicidal breakdown I had. Thanks @Mortis for your kind words.
I was born in the 90s in a humble family in the suburbs of the city of Kenitra. My father was short in stature, brown skin but his face was tolerable to look at. It wasn't beautiful, but it wasn't repulsive either. My mother, on the other hand, was slightly lighter-skinned, but not by much. I must say that my mother was even shorter than my father (he was 165, she, 159 and finished being heighted as 5'7'' - 170 cm).
My childhood was extremely hard. For those ages I was the lowest in the class, my face was deformed, and not because of any disease, it was just like that. My classmates always beat me up, the girls always laughed at me and when I appeared they always called me "الوحش" or the monster, he always cried in front of everyone. And once I urinated on myself in class when they threatened to steal the books that my parents had spent so much money buying me with their work.
In the throes of my childhood and adolescence, I was extremely devoted to Islam. I believed that one day this suffering would end and that I could achieve the dream of every Moroccan man of my generation: earn money, have a stable job, have a place to live of your own, wife and children. And I believed that I could reach high. I had a strong and iron will to achieve my biggest dreams..., I always believed it...
When it was time for the university entrance exams, my parents sat me down in the living room and told me that they couldn't pay for my university studies so they told to stop studying and find a job. So I learned the mechanic's trade with my uncle. It hurt so much. It hurt me like a thousand pangs in my heart, because my great dream of getting out of my painful situation was broken. However, as a good Muslim, I entrusted myself to Allah, and I began to learn and work as a mechanic, saving money, looking to achieve my other dream: to get married and have children.
After several years, I saved enough to afford a place to live, a car that I fixed myself, which wasn't very good, but was pretty reliable, and some savings to be able to live as one more worker.
The moment of truth arrived, and I decided to look for a girl to marry. First, search the mosque through an imaam, and no family agreed. Neither did any of his daughters accept me; "I don't want to marry that ugly man with my dsughter", I listened in whispers when the imam asked a father. And the cycle was repeated, and repeated, and repeated. Up to almost 20 times. So much that I gave up, so much that I gave up, so much that I wanted to die. All my illusions had died. Yes, I had a house, I had money with which to live a life without many luxuries, humble, but in a certain way materially rewarding.
I got so depressed that I couldn't take it anymore inside Islam. I could not forgive Allah for creating me as a sub-human. I couldn't accept Allah doing this to me after all the worship I gave him. I couldn't believe that Allah tested people like that and..., I fell into atheism. I started reading and watching videos about Richard Dawkins, evolutionary biology, psychology..., and one day, i googled: "how to make women like me" and from one thing to another, I ended up in the redpill, not as someone who took improvement advice because I knew I couldn't improve, but as a way of understanding many things about reality. After that, a short time later, I found out that various users on various networks were talking about the "blackpill" and... everything became crystal clear. Now I understood everything: a 5'7'' man, 10 cm-4 inches dick, a face that is legitimately 2/10..., a real trucel...
Life passes, and while the world dreams of the future, Sometimes I dream of never having been born. And there I stay, there I stay, without a horizon, without hope, without strategies to ascend because for people like me there are none.
I was born in the 90s in a humble family in the suburbs of the city of Kenitra. My father was short in stature, brown skin but his face was tolerable to look at. It wasn't beautiful, but it wasn't repulsive either. My mother, on the other hand, was slightly lighter-skinned, but not by much. I must say that my mother was even shorter than my father (he was 165, she, 159 and finished being heighted as 5'7'' - 170 cm).
My childhood was extremely hard. For those ages I was the lowest in the class, my face was deformed, and not because of any disease, it was just like that. My classmates always beat me up, the girls always laughed at me and when I appeared they always called me "الوحش" or the monster, he always cried in front of everyone. And once I urinated on myself in class when they threatened to steal the books that my parents had spent so much money buying me with their work.
In the throes of my childhood and adolescence, I was extremely devoted to Islam. I believed that one day this suffering would end and that I could achieve the dream of every Moroccan man of my generation: earn money, have a stable job, have a place to live of your own, wife and children. And I believed that I could reach high. I had a strong and iron will to achieve my biggest dreams..., I always believed it...
When it was time for the university entrance exams, my parents sat me down in the living room and told me that they couldn't pay for my university studies so they told to stop studying and find a job. So I learned the mechanic's trade with my uncle. It hurt so much. It hurt me like a thousand pangs in my heart, because my great dream of getting out of my painful situation was broken. However, as a good Muslim, I entrusted myself to Allah, and I began to learn and work as a mechanic, saving money, looking to achieve my other dream: to get married and have children.
After several years, I saved enough to afford a place to live, a car that I fixed myself, which wasn't very good, but was pretty reliable, and some savings to be able to live as one more worker.
The moment of truth arrived, and I decided to look for a girl to marry. First, search the mosque through an imaam, and no family agreed. Neither did any of his daughters accept me; "I don't want to marry that ugly man with my dsughter", I listened in whispers when the imam asked a father. And the cycle was repeated, and repeated, and repeated. Up to almost 20 times. So much that I gave up, so much that I gave up, so much that I wanted to die. All my illusions had died. Yes, I had a house, I had money with which to live a life without many luxuries, humble, but in a certain way materially rewarding.
I got so depressed that I couldn't take it anymore inside Islam. I could not forgive Allah for creating me as a sub-human. I couldn't accept Allah doing this to me after all the worship I gave him. I couldn't believe that Allah tested people like that and..., I fell into atheism. I started reading and watching videos about Richard Dawkins, evolutionary biology, psychology..., and one day, i googled: "how to make women like me" and from one thing to another, I ended up in the redpill, not as someone who took improvement advice because I knew I couldn't improve, but as a way of understanding many things about reality. After that, a short time later, I found out that various users on various networks were talking about the "blackpill" and... everything became crystal clear. Now I understood everything: a 5'7'' man, 10 cm-4 inches dick, a face that is legitimately 2/10..., a real trucel...
Life passes, and while the world dreams of the future, Sometimes I dream of never having been born. And there I stay, there I stay, without a horizon, without hope, without strategies to ascend because for people like me there are none.
