D
Deleted member 130915
im so stupid
- Joined
- Feb 28, 2025
- Posts
- 4,827
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Even as an ugly white guy, you’re still human. Things like personality actually matter with you because women will view you as a real human, at worse you are just an ugly ordinary person.
Myself? Not so much. Women view me as an animal, or some kind of abomination due to my black ancestry. It doesn’t matter if I have a kind loving personality, I don’t even register in their minds as a something that even has a right existing outside of a horror film. I’m not a bad guy at all, really, I would say I’m generally quite a kind and empathetic person, but at best people pity me, and more often they tend to step on me and abuse me for it. When I look at women I can feel that disgusting radiating off of them, as if my mere presence makes their skin crawl. Even at their nicest they can hardly hide their revulsion towards me.
“What the fuck is that thing?”
And it’s been this way my entire life. Since I was a young child I recognize that people didn’t see me as a real human. The people in the stories I read were humans. The people in the shows I watched. The people around me. Somehow I got it in my head that I ought to be like that, that this is all a mistake, that there’s a real person trapped inside of this body but nobody can see or hear me, and that’s never left me.
I feel I deserve to be real.
I feel I deserve love.
The me inside all of this.
But I’m locked in.
Only way out is to burn it all off
Myself? Not so much. Women view me as an animal, or some kind of abomination due to my black ancestry. It doesn’t matter if I have a kind loving personality, I don’t even register in their minds as a something that even has a right existing outside of a horror film. I’m not a bad guy at all, really, I would say I’m generally quite a kind and empathetic person, but at best people pity me, and more often they tend to step on me and abuse me for it. When I look at women I can feel that disgusting radiating off of them, as if my mere presence makes their skin crawl. Even at their nicest they can hardly hide their revulsion towards me.
“What the fuck is that thing?”
And it’s been this way my entire life. Since I was a young child I recognize that people didn’t see me as a real human. The people in the stories I read were humans. The people in the shows I watched. The people around me. Somehow I got it in my head that I ought to be like that, that this is all a mistake, that there’s a real person trapped inside of this body but nobody can see or hear me, and that’s never left me.
I feel I deserve to be real.
I feel I deserve love.
The me inside all of this.
But I’m locked in.
Only way out is to burn it all off
