B
Immersed in the depths of my meager existence, I find myself constantly under the pressure of social expectations, triggered by my imperfect appearance. In the gloomy twilight of my life, I find solace in the expanses of tiktok, watching amusing videos devoid of profound meaning, fleeting moments of carefree fun that help me forget all the troubles and hardships, with thoughts that perhaps everything isn't so bad after all. However, sometimes I am unfortunate enough to encounter content that seems created with no intention other than to hurt and offend. Like, for example, the Saafir video, where guys approach women like hunters, making contact with them or simply showcasing their looks and voluptuous forms, basking in the clouds of their magnificence and boasting about their achievements. Yet the true pain lies not in the fact that I am not like them or that I have no chance of becoming like them, no matter how hard I try. The essence of the problem lies in the comments, those precious words that I will never see under videos featuring me: flattering approvals from women, hidden confessions of sexual attraction, secret praises and admirations. I delve into this bleak world as if experiencing the cruelest tortures upon myself, feeling my trembling hands not from envy, but from pain and despair, realizing that this lucky one simply got lucky, while I remain just a tiny speck in the abyss of the universe, unnoticed by fortune. It's cruel, really cruel; no one will ever dream of someone like me, rather they dream of not seeing someone like me in their lives. It's disappointing...
