RODEBLUR
Most oppressed user on org Threadmaking REINSTATED
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April 16th, 2043.
I wake up on a regular morning like any other. I get out of bed, the very bed i've never shared with anyone, walk to the living room and throw myself on the couch.
Let's turn on the TV and see what's happening in this world.
''Queen Catharina-Amalia to ascend to throne following abdication of her father, King Willem-Alexander''
How boring. Can't believe monarchies still exist this day and age.
''-the committee has hinted at the possibility of the infamous Frisian tour skating competition the Elfstedentocht next year, an age-old televised tradition which has captivated the nati-''
Oh fuck off! They haven't done it since 1997, it hasn't occured a single time during the entire length of my life. It should be clear that it's never gonna happen.
''9th Rutte Cabinet in shambles after tensions between-''
Oh my god, who cares? This always happens, just vote for someone else already! Damn! This guy had already been PM for years when the last King ascended to the throne when i was 9 years old in 2013! It's been more than 30 years! For fuck's sake...
Has anything ever even happened in this country, or is it the same rehashed bullshit daily, for years on end?
Why did i even bother? Did i expect some sort of miracle?
Whatever. Time to watch some international news.
''-the US-born worldwide sensation has announced xe is raising xem lab-created genderfluid child in a polygamous marriage with multiple sexless parental figure-''
Holy mother of christ- TURN THAT SHIT OFF!
I take a deep breath as i turn off the television. It's happened again. Dissapointment and digust at the mindless actions of my generation.
But, speaking of kids, isn't it time to bring my own to school?
Oh yeah, wait.
I almost forgot.
I don't have any, because i'm a worthless incel.
My father will turn 98 years old next week. Surely, by now, he's come to the realization i'm a genetic dead end, just like i have years ago.
My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. I had nearly forgotten an important detail.
Today is my birthday. I turn 39 years old.
But, as i open the door, i realize it's not my family that's come to visit.
It's home care. They come every Thursday. A 2040 census had revealed the average 20-year old Dutch male to be 192.38cms tall, or otherwise 6'3'' 1/2 inches. A 6cm surge since 2013.
This places me below the 0.5th percentile at 5 foot 8, officially diagnosing me with dwarfism. By law, people with severe medical conditions like mine are required to attend home checkups at least once a week.
However, this made me eligible for welfare, as this is very much a handicap. Not having to work has made my life somewhat copeable, though. I'm free to forget it all, and just lay down and rot...
Before i got on welfare though, i made my dough as a model... for the pictures the government puts on cigarette packages to invoke a feeling of disgust on the smoker.
What went through my mind hoping it would be my family at the door anyway? I had become estranged from my brother, my only sibling, decades ago. My father is nearly a centenarian, likely too busy with his own birthday in less than a week. That is, assuming he's in good enough health to do so.
My mother dissapeared the moment i started living on my own. Perhaps the elation of not having to raise an invisible subhuman gave her a sense of freedom she hadn't felt in years.
Nevertheless, i welcome the worker into my home, and move forward with the usual.
At one point, she asks for a certain tool, which i tell her is in a different room upstairs. I remain seated, and grab a picture of my oneitis from the table.
I wrap my arms around the frame and press it towards my chest. I have spiralled into another internal venting episode, and as always, a girl who does not know of my existence is the sole motivator for me to pursue my hopes and dreams. My shoulder to cry on.
In my mind, they're my guardian angel.
I've been doing it since i was 16. An advanced coping mechanism, if you will. Such a subhuman existence merits nothing less than extreme coping to carry on, anyway.
The worker returns with the needed tool and passes through my living room. I hear a giggle coming from their direction.
''You still have one of those?''
What? She points at my television.
''Come on, even when you were younger nobody had one of those. Don't you have a-''
NO! No i don't, and i don't need one. I don't need to immerse myself in the horrid atrocities this exuberant grim absolute freak show has to offer. The fact that some you lot have the nerve to call this bureaucratic purgatory a progressive society is devastating enough to make my brain spontaneously combust and paint my carpet red on the spot.
Wait. Did i say that out loud? Shit.
The worker lets out a slight chuckle, as she casually continues with her checkup. I'm probably just another looney out of the dozen she has to deal with daily anyway.
So, who's that? She makes a gesture towards the picture of my oneitis I have on the table.
Now i'm really on the spot. How can i explain this to her? There's even a slight bit of dried cum on there. Could i pass it as some sort of dust or mold? How can i explain who the person in the picture even is, and why i have them framed in my house?
I found myself unable to force any words out of my mouth. I froze up, and all i could bear to utter was a shy ''nobody...''
She chuckled and asked: ''So, any kids? A wife maybe?''
It was again, a question that put me on the spot. I've got nothing. I've been having nothing all my life. There's nobody in my life and my support system is a fucking picture of a girl i've never even met.
But i can't say that. So it's just a no.
''Really? And you live alone? Don't you have any family or friends?''
Again. These questions are really beating me down. I am being reminded of my subhumanity again. Is this God telling me to end it all?
I let that thought settle for a bit. It would make sense.
I decided to cut the conversation short.
''No, i do not. Anything else?''
''No, that's it for today. Checkup came out fine, nothing notable.'' Those 2 words could be applied to my entire existence as well.
''Alright then, i'll be seeing you next Thursday.''
I stood up, ready to walk her out the door. I can tell that this amused her, she was probably dying of laughter inside at my weak stature.
''Happy Easter!''. I hear the sound of the door closing as i begin to dwell on my subhumanity.
It kicked in. All those years have been lost.
This life, has been lost.
I had already died a long time ago. I was just dragging my body along.
I was moreso keeping my vessel functional than living.
I have missed every milestone. I am still a virgin, KHH as well. I will never experience what it means to be human, to be alive. All i will experience, and have experienced, is the agony of my existence, as the hard truth comes crashing down upon me... It never began.
Every memory i'd ever had. Everything i've ever thought. Everything i'd ever done. Everything i've ever strived towards, everything i've ever said, everything i've ever created, all of it... amounted to nothing. I came to the realisation that nothing i had ever done mattered. To myself, or anyone else. I realised... that i didn't matter.
My cope was finally broken. The full extent of my subhumanity was now rent free in my head.
I finally understood the biological reason for ERs. It's no less than the human species cleansing itself of its filth. Whether what they had done was purely suicidal or also homicidal, it always ends with the death of the perpetrator... the extinction of less worthy genetic lines. In the end, it all comes down to your genetic quality...
And i'm a product off Wish.
To be truly blackpilled means to accept your fate... To accept the path God laid out for you. And some of us are lemmings being lead off cliffs.
But without the ugly, nothing could ever be beautiful. I guess that was my purpose as a subhuman. To exist, simply so others could be glad they are not me.
But, i had reached my boiling point. I couldn't do it anymore. The rest of my life would have been the same lifeless survival for decades straight, alone, isolated, as an unlikeable revolting individual... I had to put an end to this insufferable leeching existence of mine. Everyone would thank me for it. The only people who even knew me closely are now at the brink of their own deaths... It's a clear path... This is it.
And so i went into my garage. I got in my car, closed all doors, and opened my car windows.
And then i turned on the ignition.
A wave of relief dawned upon me. I had felt the most comfortable i had in years.
It was like this was my destiny. I decided to turn on the radio, and play my favourite song... that i would listen to all the time when i was younger.
I felt at peace. With myself. With the world. With everything... It was like euthanasia. It was in everyone's favour...
As i listened to the tunes that defined the industrial amount of cope i pumped myself full of everyday during my adolescence, they now define the exact opposite, the ceasing of my useless cope... All i ever did, was prolong the inevitable.
I should have known better, and roped from the start. But, a wise man once said, it's never too late to do the right thing.
It's at this point that i succumb to the effects of carbon monoxide poisoning. In life, i used to think about why i received home care when i was perfectly healthy, no limbs missing, every organ functioning just fine.
I now realize, that if were it not for my weekly appointment, my body would go weeks, even months without being noticed.
This entire time, it was actually just to make sure the dead subhumans were retrieved on time. Before it would start ruining the carpetry, giving the house a foul odor, and just lowering its overall value. They knew that subhumans like me had the risk of doing these kind of things... and wanted to limit the effects of this to those subhumans and their families only.
A brutal truth.
And that's the story of how nature rid itself of a gene pool putrifier.. Until the next one is born.. and the story repeats itself.
Remember:
it's over.
fin
