MarquisDeSade
Mephistopheles
★★★★★
- Joined
- Feb 11, 2021
- Posts
- 15,859
The manifesto here will be divided into several parts of which each one will lead into the other as a much broader format begins to take shape for the reader of it. Each part is the mental reflection or thoughts of the unknown man. The first one is pure despair and depressing so it's a hard read, some might find it boring, but as a reminder, each part evolves into the next one where the thoughts expressed to give the lead to where they evolve over time. Don't think by reading the first part you will automatically know how it ends, I have several twists and turns as this manifesto divided into parts evolves in its final destination, conclusion, or form. With my writing style, I don't make anything predictable or obvious for the reader. My writing itself is meant as a developing story, manifesto, and existential philosophical treatise of inceldom, existence, life, humanity as a whole, and finally revolutionary act. It will be filled with symbolism, a kind of nihilistic mysticism, gnostic expressions, prophecy, and my thoughts on the eternal damnation of mankind. Over time I hope everybody enjoys reading it as I do in its ongoing creation. In many ways, some of this writing is a reflection of myself writing it, but that is not my desired goal here, for the unknown man could be any incel, where that is the point of him being the unknown man, to begin with, he can be anybody. You might think yourself, is this just going to be some fictional display of lengthy larp posting or mentally projected masturbation and I assure you, no it won't be.
The abomination of humanity, the self-annihilation of civilization, and the future incel manifesto.
Part One.
The unknown man contemplated his existence sitting in the dark of a chair of his dwelling place, he thought to himself,
"Where shall I begin? I shall start from the very beginning."
It was the 87th yearly blood harvest full moon of the 19th century he was born in one of the months of Old Man Winter from which he was born and thinking of the wretchedness of his entire life he thought to himself it would have been better if that whore of a mother who shitted him out into this existence would have taken a clothing hanging wire aborting him on the spot from ever being born into this nightmarish world altogether dumping the fetal remains in some random garbage waste bin of a back alley somewhere. This entire world is a devil's playground, absurd circus, and torture chamber of the human condition itself. A life exercised in futility, constant despair, misfortune, grief, and pain. He then remembers the days of his youth still wet behind the ears of an optimistic adolescent so full of hope, idealism, dreams, ambitions, and aspirations. As he grew into a teenager he remembers the dream of finding a suitable partner adorned in a dress on a nice summer day with a warm breeze her smiling with her hair gently blowing in the wind with the sun in the sky and blue skies of clouds above amongst a park landscape, his first love together on a picnic under the natural scenery lying on the grass basking in the shade of the sun together, his arms around her caressing her skin as she thought to herself out loud laying on him giggling about hearing his heartbeat feeling the warmth of human contact. He imagined a small house with this woman of his imagination, a white picket fence, children running around playing in the yard with the laughter of joy in the background.
At the end of this mental image, he thought to himself, is this not the dream of every accomplished man that works, sweats, labors, and toils for?
For what else is there in the world that can complete a man beyond this? For in every historical society, is this not the rite of passage for every man, his natural birthright, and the sole reason by the natural design of his own biological destiny?
Years however would pass and this dream would never come, in fact, it simply never did. Misfortunes came in great quantities one after the other where virtually all his family members died off one by one within less than a single decade until finally he was left alone as the last of his family line. Over the course of less than a decade, the unknown man would lose everything for he was even denied a roof over his head, it didn't matter how many jobs he worked trying to pull himself out of poverty by the nails of his fingers which bled he was left destitute abandoned in a society he so desperately wanted to be a part of as a contributing productive individual member but outright rejected him nonetheless as an alien outcast.
Overtime having becoming an absolute beggar living in total penury he began to travel and wander the world like an incorporeal phantom he was an outcast of, but in this, it was never a choice to be this way freely of his own accord, it was a fate foisted upon him where there was no choice involved whereas a man he became the living damned. It was as if he had been marked to a life of total damnation, but even more with such thoughts of melancholy, rage, and torment, he did not know why. He did not know the nature of his crime or guilt in this existence to be punished in this manner. For what were his crimes in life against humanity to be treated so inhumanely? What was he guilty of to be marked in such a way? He had committed no crimes, he was a young man full of idealism, ambition, dreams, hopes, and desires like any other.
For years more he would wander or travel the countryside, small towns, and cities, adrift as a poor beggar living into penury as this incorporeal phantom, haunting specter, and ghost, everywhere he walked amongst nobody would acknowledge him unless it was some sort of official formality of conversational exchange or a glimpse of facial disgust and estrangement. Always walking by family households looking into the windows at night as families got together in displays of love, laughter, joy, and smiles. Displays of a life he wish he had whereas the years passed on the fleeting experience of love and joy became as alien to him as that kind of life he wanted for himself.
More years passed yet again always drifting from one place to the next as the incorporeal phantom where slowly he felt the life force of all humanity leaving him as this wretched existence continued for so long he barely felt human at all. As he wandered this world as an incorporeal phantom he felt he could scream in a crowded room to which no one would notice him for it is as clear as day he had become entirely invisible etching one meager lifestyle of merely subsisting to the next. His life sentence that of a ghost to merely exist in the shadows at the bottom of society like some sort of parasitical bottom feeder eating the scraps thrown to the bottom merely to sustain him. Slowly as the days and time began to fade he lost all semblance of hope, his past dreams of normality destroyed one after the other within
the span of years as the cruel reality of his existence began to mentally dawn on him as he felt its weight stretch him out naked upon full display. He was an exile, an outcast, a leper, a ghost, a phantom, and an undesirable.
He was thrown out naked out into the ocean of eternal suffering cast adrift with an invisible hand above his head pushing him down drowning him slowly to death. He would fight to struggle against this invisible hand drowning him in an endless sea of misfortune and misery that was filling his lungs trying to gasp for air, but every time he draweth breath he was plunged back into the waters again constantly. And finally, after several years had passed by as despair, grief, torment, anguish, and extreme suffering overtook him he had already died several times deep inside himself had become the living dead, cut straight down into the center of his soul into several thousand pieces but left alive in a world that had clearly abandoned him.
The abomination of humanity, the self-annihilation of civilization, and the future incel manifesto.
Part One.
The unknown man contemplated his existence sitting in the dark of a chair of his dwelling place, he thought to himself,
"Where shall I begin? I shall start from the very beginning."
It was the 87th yearly blood harvest full moon of the 19th century he was born in one of the months of Old Man Winter from which he was born and thinking of the wretchedness of his entire life he thought to himself it would have been better if that whore of a mother who shitted him out into this existence would have taken a clothing hanging wire aborting him on the spot from ever being born into this nightmarish world altogether dumping the fetal remains in some random garbage waste bin of a back alley somewhere. This entire world is a devil's playground, absurd circus, and torture chamber of the human condition itself. A life exercised in futility, constant despair, misfortune, grief, and pain. He then remembers the days of his youth still wet behind the ears of an optimistic adolescent so full of hope, idealism, dreams, ambitions, and aspirations. As he grew into a teenager he remembers the dream of finding a suitable partner adorned in a dress on a nice summer day with a warm breeze her smiling with her hair gently blowing in the wind with the sun in the sky and blue skies of clouds above amongst a park landscape, his first love together on a picnic under the natural scenery lying on the grass basking in the shade of the sun together, his arms around her caressing her skin as she thought to herself out loud laying on him giggling about hearing his heartbeat feeling the warmth of human contact. He imagined a small house with this woman of his imagination, a white picket fence, children running around playing in the yard with the laughter of joy in the background.
At the end of this mental image, he thought to himself, is this not the dream of every accomplished man that works, sweats, labors, and toils for?
For what else is there in the world that can complete a man beyond this? For in every historical society, is this not the rite of passage for every man, his natural birthright, and the sole reason by the natural design of his own biological destiny?
Years however would pass and this dream would never come, in fact, it simply never did. Misfortunes came in great quantities one after the other where virtually all his family members died off one by one within less than a single decade until finally he was left alone as the last of his family line. Over the course of less than a decade, the unknown man would lose everything for he was even denied a roof over his head, it didn't matter how many jobs he worked trying to pull himself out of poverty by the nails of his fingers which bled he was left destitute abandoned in a society he so desperately wanted to be a part of as a contributing productive individual member but outright rejected him nonetheless as an alien outcast.
Overtime having becoming an absolute beggar living in total penury he began to travel and wander the world like an incorporeal phantom he was an outcast of, but in this, it was never a choice to be this way freely of his own accord, it was a fate foisted upon him where there was no choice involved whereas a man he became the living damned. It was as if he had been marked to a life of total damnation, but even more with such thoughts of melancholy, rage, and torment, he did not know why. He did not know the nature of his crime or guilt in this existence to be punished in this manner. For what were his crimes in life against humanity to be treated so inhumanely? What was he guilty of to be marked in such a way? He had committed no crimes, he was a young man full of idealism, ambition, dreams, hopes, and desires like any other.
For years more he would wander or travel the countryside, small towns, and cities, adrift as a poor beggar living into penury as this incorporeal phantom, haunting specter, and ghost, everywhere he walked amongst nobody would acknowledge him unless it was some sort of official formality of conversational exchange or a glimpse of facial disgust and estrangement. Always walking by family households looking into the windows at night as families got together in displays of love, laughter, joy, and smiles. Displays of a life he wish he had whereas the years passed on the fleeting experience of love and joy became as alien to him as that kind of life he wanted for himself.
More years passed yet again always drifting from one place to the next as the incorporeal phantom where slowly he felt the life force of all humanity leaving him as this wretched existence continued for so long he barely felt human at all. As he wandered this world as an incorporeal phantom he felt he could scream in a crowded room to which no one would notice him for it is as clear as day he had become entirely invisible etching one meager lifestyle of merely subsisting to the next. His life sentence that of a ghost to merely exist in the shadows at the bottom of society like some sort of parasitical bottom feeder eating the scraps thrown to the bottom merely to sustain him. Slowly as the days and time began to fade he lost all semblance of hope, his past dreams of normality destroyed one after the other within
the span of years as the cruel reality of his existence began to mentally dawn on him as he felt its weight stretch him out naked upon full display. He was an exile, an outcast, a leper, a ghost, a phantom, and an undesirable.
He was thrown out naked out into the ocean of eternal suffering cast adrift with an invisible hand above his head pushing him down drowning him slowly to death. He would fight to struggle against this invisible hand drowning him in an endless sea of misfortune and misery that was filling his lungs trying to gasp for air, but every time he draweth breath he was plunged back into the waters again constantly. And finally, after several years had passed by as despair, grief, torment, anguish, and extreme suffering overtook him he had already died several times deep inside himself had become the living dead, cut straight down into the center of his soul into several thousand pieces but left alive in a world that had clearly abandoned him.
Last edited: