Brutal story
[BLACKPILL] To all the beautiful normal people visiting this subreddit
Before you read this you should know that this isn't a sob story. I didn't write this to get your empathy. I don't care for your pity. I wrote this for the sole purpose of giving every person that claims that inceldom is a choice a real insight on what inceldom actually is.
I'm a 26-year-old male virgin living in Sweden. I was born here and I've lived here my entire life. I'm ethnically Middle Eastern, I'm 157cm (5'2") tall and I weigh 46kg (101 lbs). I'm balding at an alarming rate and I have a face covered in acne and a huge nose.
When I was 10 years old my father died of cancer, it was discovered too late and there wasn't anything that could be done to save him. He left me, my two-year-old little brother and my mother in a tough situation. Because my mother's salary wasn't enough for her to be able to pay the rent on her own we had to move out of our two-bedroom apartment in the ghetto to a smaller one-bedroom apartment in the ghetto.
When I was 16 years old my mother was in an accident at work which lead to her injuring her back. She damaged nerves in her spine and started having immense pains in her legs and arms whenever she would walk. Because of this she had to quit her job and stay at home while receiving disability benefits from the social insurance agency. The disability benefits were barely enough to pay for the rent and food so my brother and I couldn't buy anything beyond that. We couldn't buy any clothes, toys or birthday cakes. I lost all of my friends because hanging out usually meant spending money, either on activities or on fast food and snacks. And because we couldn't afford it I had to make up lies and excuses to why I couldn't hang out every time they asked me, and eventually they just stopped asking.
A year later the social insurance agency re-examined my mother's case and decided that she was fit to work. My mother who could barely get out of bed to cook food went to multiple different doctors to try to prove that she wasn't faking her injury. Even though they all sided with her and gave their attestations which said that her back really was injured the decision wasn't up to them, it was up to the administrative official who had been assigned to my mother's case at the social insurance agency. And for reasons beyond me this administrative official really had something against my mother, so her appeals were all denied.
I had seen my mother suffer and lie in bed for a year so I knew that she wasn't faking her injury. Knowing we could face eviction and homelessness I had to make a decision. Even though I had decent grades I dropped out of high school to find a job. I simply couldn't let my 9-year-old brother become homeless or end up in foster care. Because of the fact that I was underage, lacked a high school diploma and my name isn't the best name to have when looking for a job in Sweden I had a really hard time finding a job. But I finally managed to get a job at a factory. It was an assembly line job, the salary was really bad and the hours very long, but it paid the rent, food and every couple of months I had enough savings to buy some new clothes for my little brother.
Yesterday I realized something. In a little bit more than a year from now I will have finished my mission. My little brother will graduate from high school and move out to study at a university. I however will still be here. I'll be a 27-year-old, 5'2" bald Middle Eastern man without a high school diploma, with zero friends and no sexual experience, who's working a dead-end job and is sharing a bedroom with his mother. If I want to find a partner to share my life with I'll be competing against the average men my age. The average man my age is a handsome socially capable Swedish man who's 6'+, has a university degree, owns his own condominium, has a nice car and a well-paying job, has traveled the world and has plenty of sexual experience. But at least I'll have my shitty toxic personality from all the years of hardships and suffering, and that's all that really matters, right?
[BLACKPILL] To all the beautiful normal people visiting this subreddit
Before you read this you should know that this isn't a sob story. I didn't write this to get your empathy. I don't care for your pity. I wrote this for the sole purpose of giving every person that claims that inceldom is a choice a real insight on what inceldom actually is.
I'm a 26-year-old male virgin living in Sweden. I was born here and I've lived here my entire life. I'm ethnically Middle Eastern, I'm 157cm (5'2") tall and I weigh 46kg (101 lbs). I'm balding at an alarming rate and I have a face covered in acne and a huge nose.
When I was 10 years old my father died of cancer, it was discovered too late and there wasn't anything that could be done to save him. He left me, my two-year-old little brother and my mother in a tough situation. Because my mother's salary wasn't enough for her to be able to pay the rent on her own we had to move out of our two-bedroom apartment in the ghetto to a smaller one-bedroom apartment in the ghetto.
When I was 16 years old my mother was in an accident at work which lead to her injuring her back. She damaged nerves in her spine and started having immense pains in her legs and arms whenever she would walk. Because of this she had to quit her job and stay at home while receiving disability benefits from the social insurance agency. The disability benefits were barely enough to pay for the rent and food so my brother and I couldn't buy anything beyond that. We couldn't buy any clothes, toys or birthday cakes. I lost all of my friends because hanging out usually meant spending money, either on activities or on fast food and snacks. And because we couldn't afford it I had to make up lies and excuses to why I couldn't hang out every time they asked me, and eventually they just stopped asking.
A year later the social insurance agency re-examined my mother's case and decided that she was fit to work. My mother who could barely get out of bed to cook food went to multiple different doctors to try to prove that she wasn't faking her injury. Even though they all sided with her and gave their attestations which said that her back really was injured the decision wasn't up to them, it was up to the administrative official who had been assigned to my mother's case at the social insurance agency. And for reasons beyond me this administrative official really had something against my mother, so her appeals were all denied.
I had seen my mother suffer and lie in bed for a year so I knew that she wasn't faking her injury. Knowing we could face eviction and homelessness I had to make a decision. Even though I had decent grades I dropped out of high school to find a job. I simply couldn't let my 9-year-old brother become homeless or end up in foster care. Because of the fact that I was underage, lacked a high school diploma and my name isn't the best name to have when looking for a job in Sweden I had a really hard time finding a job. But I finally managed to get a job at a factory. It was an assembly line job, the salary was really bad and the hours very long, but it paid the rent, food and every couple of months I had enough savings to buy some new clothes for my little brother.
Yesterday I realized something. In a little bit more than a year from now I will have finished my mission. My little brother will graduate from high school and move out to study at a university. I however will still be here. I'll be a 27-year-old, 5'2" bald Middle Eastern man without a high school diploma, with zero friends and no sexual experience, who's working a dead-end job and is sharing a bedroom with his mother. If I want to find a partner to share my life with I'll be competing against the average men my age. The average man my age is a handsome socially capable Swedish man who's 6'+, has a university degree, owns his own condominium, has a nice car and a well-paying job, has traveled the world and has plenty of sexual experience. But at least I'll have my shitty toxic personality from all the years of hardships and suffering, and that's all that really matters, right?
