BlackLowLtn
Mr. Loverman - BlackCommander of the Fourth Reich
★★★★★
- Joined
- Oct 19, 2024
- Posts
- 7,119
- Online time
- 2d 13h
Just want love man, nothing more.
I understand even on this site people might wonder why I am always talking about this whether it's my shitposts or serious posts; Sewers, Lounge, ID. Why focus so heavily on something that makes one more depressed?
Yet, there is so little that it is natural for me to hunger. Why wouldn't I focus on a fundamental resource that I am utterly deprived of?
I don't have familial love: the only memory of my dad I have is the night he threw me into a glass table, my mother spent the rest of my childhood severely beating the self-esteem out of me. She saw me as her mistake.
I don't have social love: I spent a large portion of my childhood selectively mute, while what could only be described as torture methods were inflicted on to me by my peers.
If it wasn't physical, it was psychological; if it was neither than it was total social isolation.
Degraded down to an asocial beast.
I don't have societal love: after my father's arrest, we could only rely on benefits. I spent all those years moving place to place, city to city, street to street.
We were technically homeless, but managed to apply for council housing. But as the benefits got tighter, we struggled to even go off that.
I don't have self love: I hate myself, how am I expected to just love myself if all my life I was told I am of sin, unloveable, a disgusting "fag" for how I look. I am hollow, utterly unfit for this world even in my own eyes.
I don't have existential love: there is no value in someone like me, so how could someone else see something that's not there?
I don't have divine love: I must ask, if the harder the life, the greater the afterlife, what must it entail for people like me?
A sinner of which wallows on his past, rather than stepping into the present.
Why must I suffer, for a life I never asked for?
For a spiritual trial that was never warranted.
I would rather have been a humble holy servant after a wishful life, rather than to have fallen like this.
There is no miracle for me, a failed Christian.
I don't have love.
I understand even on this site people might wonder why I am always talking about this whether it's my shitposts or serious posts; Sewers, Lounge, ID. Why focus so heavily on something that makes one more depressed?
Yet, there is so little that it is natural for me to hunger. Why wouldn't I focus on a fundamental resource that I am utterly deprived of?
I don't have familial love: the only memory of my dad I have is the night he threw me into a glass table, my mother spent the rest of my childhood severely beating the self-esteem out of me. She saw me as her mistake.
I don't have social love: I spent a large portion of my childhood selectively mute, while what could only be described as torture methods were inflicted on to me by my peers.
If it wasn't physical, it was psychological; if it was neither than it was total social isolation.
Degraded down to an asocial beast.
I don't have societal love: after my father's arrest, we could only rely on benefits. I spent all those years moving place to place, city to city, street to street.
We were technically homeless, but managed to apply for council housing. But as the benefits got tighter, we struggled to even go off that.
I don't have self love: I hate myself, how am I expected to just love myself if all my life I was told I am of sin, unloveable, a disgusting "fag" for how I look. I am hollow, utterly unfit for this world even in my own eyes.
I don't have existential love: there is no value in someone like me, so how could someone else see something that's not there?
I don't have divine love: I must ask, if the harder the life, the greater the afterlife, what must it entail for people like me?
A sinner of which wallows on his past, rather than stepping into the present.
Why must I suffer, for a life I never asked for?
For a spiritual trial that was never warranted.
I would rather have been a humble holy servant after a wishful life, rather than to have fallen like this.
There is no miracle for me, a failed Christian.
I don't have love.





