For me, personally. It's not the lack of reproduction, as I really couldn't care less about spawning crotch fruit. It's not the sexlessness, as though it hurts, my hand does the trick to relieve the pain. It's not even the loneliness or the skin hunger, though it bothers me deeply, and they torment me relentlessly.
No, it's the fact that the people in my life don't seem to give a single, flying shit about the relentless pain and unending torment that I deal with on an hourly basis, and have dealt with for more than two miserable decades of my life. My father's oblivious and doesn't seem to even notice, neither of my brothers seem to give any sort of fuck about what I'm going through. My friends, few as they are, seem far more concerned about what I can do for them, than even bothering to ask if I'm okay, and if I'm making it through all the struggles I face. My guardian angel, or whatever suffices for the damn thing, seems to be doing the bare minimum to keep me out of mortal trouble and peril, a regular punch-clock douche who has no passion for his job.
The inceldom, though brutal, relentless, and hell, I can deal with. I have my various copes, my games, my music, my beer and weed, though the former have been infiltrated and destroyed by casuals/posers and liberal idealogues alike, but I thankfully still have old/underground things to enjoy. But the fact that people who expect me to care about them show nothing in return just cuts deeply. I find myself facing a cold, heartless truth: that being, I don't really feel like I give a single fucking shit about any of them, anymore.
Even my own incel community has been laid waste, by banishment from our origins, and the invasion of niggers and curries trolling the main forum spaces, glowies posting bait and thoughtless spam, pedophiles, commies, and liberal scum.
The real problem with inceldom is that I don't just feel alone; I feel abandoned.
No, it's the fact that the people in my life don't seem to give a single, flying shit about the relentless pain and unending torment that I deal with on an hourly basis, and have dealt with for more than two miserable decades of my life. My father's oblivious and doesn't seem to even notice, neither of my brothers seem to give any sort of fuck about what I'm going through. My friends, few as they are, seem far more concerned about what I can do for them, than even bothering to ask if I'm okay, and if I'm making it through all the struggles I face. My guardian angel, or whatever suffices for the damn thing, seems to be doing the bare minimum to keep me out of mortal trouble and peril, a regular punch-clock douche who has no passion for his job.
The inceldom, though brutal, relentless, and hell, I can deal with. I have my various copes, my games, my music, my beer and weed, though the former have been infiltrated and destroyed by casuals/posers and liberal idealogues alike, but I thankfully still have old/underground things to enjoy. But the fact that people who expect me to care about them show nothing in return just cuts deeply. I find myself facing a cold, heartless truth: that being, I don't really feel like I give a single fucking shit about any of them, anymore.
Even my own incel community has been laid waste, by banishment from our origins, and the invasion of niggers and curries trolling the main forum spaces, glowies posting bait and thoughtless spam, pedophiles, commies, and liberal scum.
The real problem with inceldom is that I don't just feel alone; I feel abandoned.
