Since I’ve become accustomed to incel ideology I’ve thought of reproducing with a physical impaired woman. Not as in genetically impaired but externally due to burns, trauma, etc, as to use as a vessel. However, the more I discover my intrinsic failures the less I feel the urge to reproduce. The idea was to live vicariously through my offspring—to see their successes. However, the more I think about it the more I realize that it would most likely cause more pain. I was supposed to die after being born. My parents were probably meant to be not born as well. With each progressing generation there’s more and more genetic degradation. It’s like the world itself is calling on me to give up. And it would be right to say so.
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