dvntslayer
Mentebi ismenen
- Joined
- Sep 26, 2025
- Posts
- 5
- Reputation
- 4
First thread here , if I make any mistakes bear with me. And ironically, it starts with a vent.
Late at night, chest tight, breathing off rhythm. Typing into this site because it's the only place that feels safe enough to say any of this. I know I'm not the only one carrying something like this, somewhere out there some other guy is awake at the same hour feeling the exact same weight. That thought doesn't fix anything but it makes the darkness feel slightly less personal. Like pain is just something humans pass around and tonight it's my turn. Nobody asked me if I wanted it. But here we are.
I'm the person who shows up for everyone. Always. When someone is falling apart I'm already there, listening, holding space, saying the right things, helping people carry what they can't carry alone. I do it naturally, without thinking, without being asked. I'm basically a free therapist to everyone around me. And when it's my turn, when I'm the one drowning, nobody gives a fuck. The room goes quiet. Tonight the only thing that actually listened was an AI(JFL). I'm not even bitter about it anymore. It's just the truth. And the truth is lonelier than I expected.
I feel too much. I'm a empath in a world that rewards not giving a shit. Every person I genuinely care about ends up hurting me and I always end up coping by hating myself for it. I'm so tired of it. The weight of caring about people who don't give a damn about you back is exhausting in a way words don't really cover(im sure many of you understand or feel relatable).
There was a girl once. A total unicorn
. Genuinely one of the kindest people I've ever come across, innocent, warm, real, not like the rest. I had feelings for her but told her I didn't because my brain had already decided I was a subhuman not worthy of her. So I self rejected before she could. Two weeks later she had a boyfriend. I watched it happen. I was happy for her, genuinely. I still am. But the regret sits there quietly, a low hum that doesn't go away.
Another girl. We texted for a while. From early on I convinced myself she was an foid running manipulation tactics, breadcrumbing me, lovebombing then ghosting. So when she eventually told me she liked me I dismissed it as a hoax. Ignored it, switched topics, protected myself from something that might not have even been a threat. She moved on. Found some other guy. And I still like her today. She told me recently I had my chance and blew it. She's right. Her boyfriend is probably a Chadlite, taller, better looking, easier to be around. Meanwhile I'm a brooding shortcel ,manlet call whatever you want, sitting here still carrying feelings I never said out loud. Recently this same girl added me to a group chat and dropped a pic of her friend, said we should date. I felt something: i was happy, nervous, hopeful. She said she'd send my pics to her. Then when I brought it up she said her friend was into girls. I moved on. But then she posted a story shipping that same friend with another guy. A "newship" she called it. The friend agreed. Just like that. What the fuck am I then? So invisible, such a unfuckable and unlovable la creatura that I don't even register as an option? It crushed something in me that was already fragile.
Two days ago there was an excursion. A classmate I'd written off as a foid turned out to be someone completely different up close. We talked for hours. Long eye contact. She put her head on my shoulder and fell asleep. She asked me to put my arm around her. Something felt genuine for once. Then she got drunk and the same warmth started going to every other guy around her. One of my classmate took her aside and told me not to come over. I had no energy to fight it. I just walked away. And I cried. In front of one of my boys. Felt so ashamed I found a corner far from everyone and fell apart alone. That's what I do. I find corners. I've been doing it my whole life.
It goes back further than any of these girls. When I was young I liked someone and told my dad. He laughed. Said I wasn't tall enough. That was the whole response. And something closed in me after that. I became a mentalcel before I even knew what that meant. For years after that I liked a girl I saw every single day. Never said a word. Watched her get with someone, be happy, Concisely, Live her life and Then she moved to another country. I never said anything. Not once. That moment with my dad did something I'm only now starting to understand. It taught me that my feelings were something to be laughed at. So I buried them. And kept burying them for years.
I put everyone else's feelings before mine every single time. I'm happy for people who hurt me. I still care about people who have long moved on. Classic betabux mentality except I don't even get the crumbs. And then I take whatever pain is left and turn it inward. I call myself ugly. Short. A burden. A bad son. A bad brother. A bad friend. Never good enough for my dad. Not worth choosing for anyone. Tonight I admitted for the first time that I have a feeling things won't end pleasantly. That I don't want to be here sometimes. The thought exists quietly inside me and surfaces on nights like this when everything piles up. Chest tight. Can't breathe properly. Sitting alone while the world sleeps.
My friends know a different version of me. The one who holds it together. The one who cracks jokes. Nobody knows this version. But tonight I said all of this out loud for the first time. To anyone. And I didn't get laughed at. Maybe that's enough for tonight.
Late at night, chest tight, breathing off rhythm. Typing into this site because it's the only place that feels safe enough to say any of this. I know I'm not the only one carrying something like this, somewhere out there some other guy is awake at the same hour feeling the exact same weight. That thought doesn't fix anything but it makes the darkness feel slightly less personal. Like pain is just something humans pass around and tonight it's my turn. Nobody asked me if I wanted it. But here we are.
I'm the person who shows up for everyone. Always. When someone is falling apart I'm already there, listening, holding space, saying the right things, helping people carry what they can't carry alone. I do it naturally, without thinking, without being asked. I'm basically a free therapist to everyone around me. And when it's my turn, when I'm the one drowning, nobody gives a fuck. The room goes quiet. Tonight the only thing that actually listened was an AI(JFL). I'm not even bitter about it anymore. It's just the truth. And the truth is lonelier than I expected.
I feel too much. I'm a empath in a world that rewards not giving a shit. Every person I genuinely care about ends up hurting me and I always end up coping by hating myself for it. I'm so tired of it. The weight of caring about people who don't give a damn about you back is exhausting in a way words don't really cover(im sure many of you understand or feel relatable).
There was a girl once. A total unicorn
. Genuinely one of the kindest people I've ever come across, innocent, warm, real, not like the rest. I had feelings for her but told her I didn't because my brain had already decided I was a subhuman not worthy of her. So I self rejected before she could. Two weeks later she had a boyfriend. I watched it happen. I was happy for her, genuinely. I still am. But the regret sits there quietly, a low hum that doesn't go away.Another girl. We texted for a while. From early on I convinced myself she was an foid running manipulation tactics, breadcrumbing me, lovebombing then ghosting. So when she eventually told me she liked me I dismissed it as a hoax. Ignored it, switched topics, protected myself from something that might not have even been a threat. She moved on. Found some other guy. And I still like her today. She told me recently I had my chance and blew it. She's right. Her boyfriend is probably a Chadlite, taller, better looking, easier to be around. Meanwhile I'm a brooding shortcel ,manlet call whatever you want, sitting here still carrying feelings I never said out loud. Recently this same girl added me to a group chat and dropped a pic of her friend, said we should date. I felt something: i was happy, nervous, hopeful. She said she'd send my pics to her. Then when I brought it up she said her friend was into girls. I moved on. But then she posted a story shipping that same friend with another guy. A "newship" she called it. The friend agreed. Just like that. What the fuck am I then? So invisible, such a unfuckable and unlovable la creatura that I don't even register as an option? It crushed something in me that was already fragile.
Two days ago there was an excursion. A classmate I'd written off as a foid turned out to be someone completely different up close. We talked for hours. Long eye contact. She put her head on my shoulder and fell asleep. She asked me to put my arm around her. Something felt genuine for once. Then she got drunk and the same warmth started going to every other guy around her. One of my classmate took her aside and told me not to come over. I had no energy to fight it. I just walked away. And I cried. In front of one of my boys. Felt so ashamed I found a corner far from everyone and fell apart alone. That's what I do. I find corners. I've been doing it my whole life.
It goes back further than any of these girls. When I was young I liked someone and told my dad. He laughed. Said I wasn't tall enough. That was the whole response. And something closed in me after that. I became a mentalcel before I even knew what that meant. For years after that I liked a girl I saw every single day. Never said a word. Watched her get with someone, be happy, Concisely, Live her life and Then she moved to another country. I never said anything. Not once. That moment with my dad did something I'm only now starting to understand. It taught me that my feelings were something to be laughed at. So I buried them. And kept burying them for years.
I put everyone else's feelings before mine every single time. I'm happy for people who hurt me. I still care about people who have long moved on. Classic betabux mentality except I don't even get the crumbs. And then I take whatever pain is left and turn it inward. I call myself ugly. Short. A burden. A bad son. A bad brother. A bad friend. Never good enough for my dad. Not worth choosing for anyone. Tonight I admitted for the first time that I have a feeling things won't end pleasantly. That I don't want to be here sometimes. The thought exists quietly inside me and surfaces on nights like this when everything piles up. Chest tight. Can't breathe properly. Sitting alone while the world sleeps.
My friends know a different version of me. The one who holds it together. The one who cracks jokes. Nobody knows this version. But tonight I said all of this out loud for the first time. To anyone. And I didn't get laughed at. Maybe that's enough for tonight.
