leF
I post only HQ.
- Joined
- Jan 16, 2025
- Posts
- 59
- Reputation
- 291
there was a time when seeing a woman felt like seeing something close to divine. not in the fake hollywood way. not some simped-out fantasy. but real. when a woman had depth, when she had softness without weakness, when her beauty wasn’t plastered on for show but radiated out from who she was. real women moved differently. they spoke differently. they carried weight you could feel even without a word. they weren't chasing approval from strangers. they weren't addicted to seeing numbers go up. they knew their value without needing to flash it every five seconds like a desperate salesman. a real woman could walk into a room and change the whole air without ever lifting her voice. and that kind of beauty, real beauty, it demands respect. not because she demands it, but because it fucking earns it. and now you get plastic clowns. now you get tiktok goblins with no soul, no mind, and no sense of shame, thinking they’re the new queens of earth because they can shove their tits into a camera and trick a few thousand retarded coomers into clicking a heart button. it’s fucking pathetic. it’s not beauty. it’s not empowerment. it’s prostitution with extra steps. and they don’t even see it. they’re too far gone. they think doing trends and selling their body is "self love." they think being 19 and taking 3000 selfies a month is "confidence." it’s not confidence. it’s emptiness. it’s pure fucking desperation wearing the mask of pride.
you look at these girls now and there’s nothing there. just the same broken script copy-pasted 10 million times. "i’m living my truth" no, you're living your neurosis. "i don’t need a man" no, no man with a working brain would ever waste himself on you. "i’m strong and independent" strong until your phone battery dies lmao. independent until your beauty fades and you realize you’re just one more washed-up body in a graveyard of forgotten attention whores. they live in fast forward, chasing faster highs, while time rips their youth out from under them. and they don’t even fucking see it happening. too busy shaking ass for likes, too busy filtering their face into oblivion to notice the years slipping away. and man it would almost be funny if it wasn’t for the men. the fucking disasters sitting on the other side of the screen, the coomers, the low energy, defeated ghosts of what men used to be. sitting in dark rooms, wasting their lives clicking between free porn tabs, killing their ambition, killing their strength, killing the very thing that would have once built kingdoms. you watch them and you realize: they deserve each other. the broken girls and the broken men. two sides of the same rotting coin. the girls whoring out their souls for approval, and the men whoring out their willpower for a 5 second orgasm. both addicted. both dead inside. both betraying what they were supposed to be.
and out there somewhere, barely visible, you still have the few real ones left. the real women. the ones who still believe in loyalty, in dignity, in actually standing for something that matters. women who don’t chase a fake image of freedom but live real strength through commitment, sacrifice, love. women who are beautiful because their soul isn’t rotted out by screens and clout. women whose beauty isn’t for sale to the highest bidder. and the real men, not the fucking losers hunched over keyboards, the real men know it when they see it. they feel it. and they protect it, because it’s rare. because it’s worth something. because it’s everything the modern world has forgotten. but most of you here won’t make it. most of you fuckers are already too far gone. they’ll grow old scrolling, they’ll die swiping, and the world will forget them just like it should. because nature doesn’t give a fuck about your feelings. nature rewards the real. the strong. the loyal. the ones who didn’t sell themselves for clicks and cumshots. the rest can rot for all I care.
