there was someone I loved once who was a writer
and they would laugh at things I'd say
smile at the truth in my observations in the spirit they were offered
now they're far away
and I think I'm nearing the end of my writing. it seems to me like a waste of time.
it's not that they were ever watching, but
I cared that someone, at least, saw my particular grasp on the truth, an
immediacy.
it feels, sometimes, like being young and confident and free again.
but you realize
most words are garbage and should be treated like such.
maybe the trouble with posting here is you should understand: you have low self-esteem, so you post here.
is it not better to say nothing? lmao yeah yeah I know race to the comments to be the first in line for the sweet attention for the obvious dunk lmao
but seriously, is it not better to say nothing?
to gawk forever at human's infinite form and dimension and propensity for
batshit
lunacy.
to perform that gawking.
I used to think there was something beautiful in the ugly humanity of it all,
that the raw nature of reality held this statuesque mystique.
now I'm not so sure.
I used to think that the free speech of the Internet brought creativity, joy, and connection
now I'm not so sure.
I used to think people would work together when faced with a crisis
I used to think: nice, bro, they're not watching
but if they were
they'd smile
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You're an incel for a reason, and it's not because all the women are taken. It's because you're an ugly, self-entitled manbaby who can't deal with the fact that women don't want you. So frick you, go cry your little incel tears on braincels, and maybe learn to accept that you're just not good enough for most women.
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Jeff btfo
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Don't come for me unless you're ready to get roasted, honey.
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I was complimenting you dumbass.
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Why, thank you! I didn't realize you were so insightful!
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