bigantennaemay1
Aspie social drifter without purpose or home
★★★★★
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2017
- Posts
- 15,549
It's a good enough cope, I visit my favorite local German bar every Friday, for excellent German beer, and my usual Friday night fish fry. It's become a sort of ritual for me. And it's one of the only things keeping me alive.
Normies, foids, and especially IT like to go on about how all us incels are evil, soulless monsters, incapable of basic human feelings and empathy and whatnot. Yet, here I am, an incel, home from my favorite bar on a lonely Friday night, with this weekly ritual being one of the few things (the only other thing at the moment being my access to, and ability to get high off edibles) standing between me and the rope. Quite a stark difference, this reality, from the fantasy painted by those who would cast us rejects into a horrible light and frame of mind.
I get high off edibles with delta-8 THC (legal in my state), and I like to drink German beers, and especially like to go to my favorite German bar every Friday night, to enjoy some really good German lagers, an excellent fish fry, and some really good German music. Sometimes, I'll drink and get high in the same night. And why do I do this? Because it's the only thing that staves off suicide. I'll admit, I've been contemplating suicide since the age of 10, and I'm 32 now, for reference. It's been a long fight, and a difficult one. When I was younger, I had my blue-pilled hope that someday, somehow, I would make some friends, and find myself in a relationship with a woman, and everything would just work out fine. At 32, I now realize what a joke that was. My hopes were completely and irreversibly shattered at the age of 25 when some girl led me on, completely convincing act that even fooled my coworkers into thinking she was absolutely into me, and then she crushed me when I asked her out and she said she was only interested in being friends. Ever since then, I've found the going to be much more difficult, the days are longer, and suicide seems always to be a more imminent threat. Hell I'll admit I'm feeling it even now, numb as I am. My hope, in my younger days, used to pull me through each week with such effectiveness, I just kept telling myself "things will get better," even though they never did. But I always believed they would, until that horrible week when I was led on.
Ever since that point in my life, I've had to rely on fish fry. What do I mean? Well, when my hope was shattered, that was the moment in my life I came closest to actually doing the deed. In fact, if some random internet stranger hadn't talked me out of it, I wouldn't be here now. I knew I had to latch onto something else. Hope was all that I had, and it was gone, now. So, now I latch onto weekly Friday night fish fry as my means of escape. As my means of cope.
I have to have my Friday night fish fry, every single week, with beer, or I fear the worst. It has replaced hope; it is the one thing I have to look forward to each week of my miserable life, it's the one thing pulling me through the trials and suffering of everyday existence as an ugly, autistic incel. Though I do also have edibles; those things are incredible at cutting the pain of being incel, the pain of loneliness and worthlessness, out of my mind, if only temporarily. But the weekly fish fry, I don't know if I can do it justice, how much this helps. It's just something to look forward to, something to give me the motivation to drag myself out of bed each day, and work toward that goal at the end of each work week. It keeps me fueled, keeps me putting one foot in front of the other. I don't know what I would do without it.
And the monsters on IT, and the normies and foids in media, would paint us, paint me, as monsters, menaces to soyciety, because we recognize and acknowledge the scientifically-supported reality of human female sexual attraction, and call them out on our little, out-of-the-way forum online, where we're not really doing any harm to anyone. And the president of the US would call us terrorists! As if! A sad, depressed sack of genetic shit, who relies on getting fish and beer every Friday to avoid jumping in front of a train,a terrorist! As if! These people lack any empathy whatsoever. How am I evil? A man, ripped to shreds by soyciety, ripped to shreds by his peers growing up, and relying on drugs and alcohol and food just to scrape by week to week, a threat?! If there are any normies lurking, look at this post, and tell me I'm a monster. When I've been reduced to crawling by, week by week, sustained by beer, edibles, and fish, how can you tell me that I'm evil? That I"m the monster? Be honest with yourself, for once in your life.
This is what an incel really is: a man, who is completely unwanted by the opposite sex, held together by scotch tape metaphorically, from the brink of destruction (suicide). We're all stuck in hell, here. And there is no escape. There will never be any hope of escape for any of us, ever. That is the truth.
Normies, foids, and especially IT like to go on about how all us incels are evil, soulless monsters, incapable of basic human feelings and empathy and whatnot. Yet, here I am, an incel, home from my favorite bar on a lonely Friday night, with this weekly ritual being one of the few things (the only other thing at the moment being my access to, and ability to get high off edibles) standing between me and the rope. Quite a stark difference, this reality, from the fantasy painted by those who would cast us rejects into a horrible light and frame of mind.
I get high off edibles with delta-8 THC (legal in my state), and I like to drink German beers, and especially like to go to my favorite German bar every Friday night, to enjoy some really good German lagers, an excellent fish fry, and some really good German music. Sometimes, I'll drink and get high in the same night. And why do I do this? Because it's the only thing that staves off suicide. I'll admit, I've been contemplating suicide since the age of 10, and I'm 32 now, for reference. It's been a long fight, and a difficult one. When I was younger, I had my blue-pilled hope that someday, somehow, I would make some friends, and find myself in a relationship with a woman, and everything would just work out fine. At 32, I now realize what a joke that was. My hopes were completely and irreversibly shattered at the age of 25 when some girl led me on, completely convincing act that even fooled my coworkers into thinking she was absolutely into me, and then she crushed me when I asked her out and she said she was only interested in being friends. Ever since then, I've found the going to be much more difficult, the days are longer, and suicide seems always to be a more imminent threat. Hell I'll admit I'm feeling it even now, numb as I am. My hope, in my younger days, used to pull me through each week with such effectiveness, I just kept telling myself "things will get better," even though they never did. But I always believed they would, until that horrible week when I was led on.
Ever since that point in my life, I've had to rely on fish fry. What do I mean? Well, when my hope was shattered, that was the moment in my life I came closest to actually doing the deed. In fact, if some random internet stranger hadn't talked me out of it, I wouldn't be here now. I knew I had to latch onto something else. Hope was all that I had, and it was gone, now. So, now I latch onto weekly Friday night fish fry as my means of escape. As my means of cope.
I have to have my Friday night fish fry, every single week, with beer, or I fear the worst. It has replaced hope; it is the one thing I have to look forward to each week of my miserable life, it's the one thing pulling me through the trials and suffering of everyday existence as an ugly, autistic incel. Though I do also have edibles; those things are incredible at cutting the pain of being incel, the pain of loneliness and worthlessness, out of my mind, if only temporarily. But the weekly fish fry, I don't know if I can do it justice, how much this helps. It's just something to look forward to, something to give me the motivation to drag myself out of bed each day, and work toward that goal at the end of each work week. It keeps me fueled, keeps me putting one foot in front of the other. I don't know what I would do without it.
And the monsters on IT, and the normies and foids in media, would paint us, paint me, as monsters, menaces to soyciety, because we recognize and acknowledge the scientifically-supported reality of human female sexual attraction, and call them out on our little, out-of-the-way forum online, where we're not really doing any harm to anyone. And the president of the US would call us terrorists! As if! A sad, depressed sack of genetic shit, who relies on getting fish and beer every Friday to avoid jumping in front of a train,a terrorist! As if! These people lack any empathy whatsoever. How am I evil? A man, ripped to shreds by soyciety, ripped to shreds by his peers growing up, and relying on drugs and alcohol and food just to scrape by week to week, a threat?! If there are any normies lurking, look at this post, and tell me I'm a monster. When I've been reduced to crawling by, week by week, sustained by beer, edibles, and fish, how can you tell me that I'm evil? That I"m the monster? Be honest with yourself, for once in your life.
This is what an incel really is: a man, who is completely unwanted by the opposite sex, held together by scotch tape metaphorically, from the brink of destruction (suicide). We're all stuck in hell, here. And there is no escape. There will never be any hope of escape for any of us, ever. That is the truth.