You begin as a Stacy, like everyone. You don't use your brain to choose individualism over the herd - rather jump from Chad to Chad who won't commit - hey, it's too early for commitment, right? With time you got branded as a slut - something to be ashamed of in absolute morals but then again, it's something to be proud of - you are only exercising your body's full functions, right?
None of the Chads commit to you and you call them silly and playboys - and still continue to get yourself ploughed because reality is something of a discomfort and you cannot face it and the elixir of youth is on your side - skin is still good though the pussy shows signs of mileage that might raise an incel's eyebrow but not that of a Chad. As long as you matter to the Chad as a fuck worthy material for his weekend, everything is still fine and dandy, right?
As you age into your late 20s and/or the partying lifestyle shows signs of rapid ageing, the attention showered on you dwindles. Your sororities face the same 'issue' but now the new narrative is - just like the mgtowcels - ''girls don't show attention to me, but I don't like them anyway because I have standards'' - your tinder profile reads, ''be worthy of a man of my standards.. be worthy of a conversation with me( about what? Plato's cave?.. nope. About how she likes blueberry over anything because <insert some more me, me, me garbage>)
See, that's how your life is an escape from reality. It's always about finding a new story to escape from the harsh truths. You choose activism as a cope - you are a feminist now, attributing every problem of this universe to men and patriarchy, the rape word is the nail to the hammer. Also this slow build up of body fat from all the depressive eating while you tell yourself that all body shapes are okay.
And the coping to your life's poor choices and lack of decision making skills is to pontificate and virtue signal a bunch of subhumans (who, unlike you chose to embrace harsh reality over comfy lies). Can there be anything more pathetic to your existence than this? You who abused your psyche by trashing the norms of centuries of relationship dynamics and morality and deprived it (psyche) of any redemption while waiting for a betabux to save you because the nuances of romance and male female attraction is all blown up and the excitement of 6 or 7 figure income is the only thing that can mildly tingle the Roastie pussy in you.
If you had the awareness of a 80 IQ incel, you would have roped already but you chose to pop the prozac and mock incels with the repeated 'be a decent human being' and 'have sex' - deciding what is a decent behavior is now giving you some semblance of life as you take refuge under the umbrella of a group, reason enough to keep breathing while being surrounded by low quality men who agree with you for the sake of not discomforting you from facing any of the absolute truths.
What a miserable bunch.
(hamstering in color)
None of the Chads commit to you and you call them silly and playboys - and still continue to get yourself ploughed because reality is something of a discomfort and you cannot face it and the elixir of youth is on your side - skin is still good though the pussy shows signs of mileage that might raise an incel's eyebrow but not that of a Chad. As long as you matter to the Chad as a fuck worthy material for his weekend, everything is still fine and dandy, right?
As you age into your late 20s and/or the partying lifestyle shows signs of rapid ageing, the attention showered on you dwindles. Your sororities face the same 'issue' but now the new narrative is - just like the mgtowcels - ''girls don't show attention to me, but I don't like them anyway because I have standards'' - your tinder profile reads, ''be worthy of a man of my standards.. be worthy of a conversation with me( about what? Plato's cave?.. nope. About how she likes blueberry over anything because <insert some more me, me, me garbage>)
See, that's how your life is an escape from reality. It's always about finding a new story to escape from the harsh truths. You choose activism as a cope - you are a feminist now, attributing every problem of this universe to men and patriarchy, the rape word is the nail to the hammer. Also this slow build up of body fat from all the depressive eating while you tell yourself that all body shapes are okay.
And the coping to your life's poor choices and lack of decision making skills is to pontificate and virtue signal a bunch of subhumans (who, unlike you chose to embrace harsh reality over comfy lies). Can there be anything more pathetic to your existence than this? You who abused your psyche by trashing the norms of centuries of relationship dynamics and morality and deprived it (psyche) of any redemption while waiting for a betabux to save you because the nuances of romance and male female attraction is all blown up and the excitement of 6 or 7 figure income is the only thing that can mildly tingle the Roastie pussy in you.
If you had the awareness of a 80 IQ incel, you would have roped already but you chose to pop the prozac and mock incels with the repeated 'be a decent human being' and 'have sex' - deciding what is a decent behavior is now giving you some semblance of life as you take refuge under the umbrella of a group, reason enough to keep breathing while being surrounded by low quality men who agree with you for the sake of not discomforting you from facing any of the absolute truths.
What a miserable bunch.
(hamstering in color)
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