I often hear people justifying some action or behavior, let's call it X, by saying shit like: "Yeah, I don't want to be on my deathbed and regret not having done X."
But the more I think about it, the more retarded this whole idea of deathbed regrets seems to me. You're gonna die any moment now, you can't change fuck all about how your life went, you don't have any life left in which the regretful emotions you feel could possibly be useful or even offer the very slightest of consolation.
Even a subhuman trucel like me could conceivably have done more about "fixing" my inceldom. I could have moneymaxxed, looksmaxxed, therapymaxxed, puamaxxed, or whatever else kind of maxxing there is under the sun. Not that any of it would have guaranteed me my dream foid (the result would in fact probably have been much the same), but the fact remains that I haven't given my literal transcendently obsessive all to get out of inceldom.
All the same, I refuse to believe that I, lying on my deathbed, am gonna regret not getting that leg-lengthening surgery when I was 25, just to have a minute chance to betabux for some ugly landwhale single mother. (Which, realistically speaking, would be the only kind of woman I could go for even in optimal circumstances.) I'm retarded sometimes, but not that retarded.
But the more I think about it, the more retarded this whole idea of deathbed regrets seems to me. You're gonna die any moment now, you can't change fuck all about how your life went, you don't have any life left in which the regretful emotions you feel could possibly be useful or even offer the very slightest of consolation.
Even a subhuman trucel like me could conceivably have done more about "fixing" my inceldom. I could have moneymaxxed, looksmaxxed, therapymaxxed, puamaxxed, or whatever else kind of maxxing there is under the sun. Not that any of it would have guaranteed me my dream foid (the result would in fact probably have been much the same), but the fact remains that I haven't given my literal transcendently obsessive all to get out of inceldom.
All the same, I refuse to believe that I, lying on my deathbed, am gonna regret not getting that leg-lengthening surgery when I was 25, just to have a minute chance to betabux for some ugly landwhale single mother. (Which, realistically speaking, would be the only kind of woman I could go for even in optimal circumstances.) I'm retarded sometimes, but not that retarded.
