4lt.Real
Diamond
- Joined
- Oct 12, 2023
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The Tale Of Cope
In the labyrinth of mirrors of the looksmaxxing community, you've wandered. Lured by the promise that an idealized self is achievable through hard work. You chased the illusion of perfection. Believing that remodeling your appearance would lead to a deeper fulfillment. Yet with all the effort you've made and the methods you've tried, you soon realise that this journey was a coping mechanism. A shield against the unchangeable truths of your true being. It was a sanctuary for those who were bruised by the world’s shallow reality.
Nature spoke to you. What has been written cannot be unwritten. You cannot change your genetics. Hoping for unrealistic expectations can ruin you mentally. The hours spent chasing an idealized face, the endless tweaks to defy nature’s design, all just to find the truth no surgery could erase. Some things are just not beyond our reach. It makes you think that external perfection could fix an inner void. Society gives affection to the beautiful, a currency of approval that can quiet the inner void, at least for a moment. The void you seek to fill, born of insecurity and loneliness, might seem smaller when people admire you, but it never truly goes away.
The looksmaxxing pursuit, then, becomes a double-edged cope: it offers a shield against rejection, yet chains you to an endless chase for validation that fades with time. You’ve seen it, the fleeting highs, the crash when the spotlight dims, the realization that love tied to appearance is a loan, not a gift.
Can the outer truly heal the inner, or does it merely mask the wound? Perhaps the love you gain is real, but its roots are shallow. Seek a deeper fill not in the mirror’s approval, but in the quiet strength of self-acceptance, where love, unearned by looks, becomes eternal. The choice remains yours: to chase the cope or transcend it.
I am a young teenager who has been in the community since I was 13. I share this story not as an outsider, but as one who has lived through it all.
Looksmaxxing became my cope—a shield against wishing to escape my inceldom. a shield against my hope to reach perfection.
In the labyrinth of mirrors of the looksmaxxing community, you've wandered. Lured by the promise that an idealized self is achievable through hard work. You chased the illusion of perfection. Believing that remodeling your appearance would lead to a deeper fulfillment. Yet with all the effort you've made and the methods you've tried, you soon realise that this journey was a coping mechanism. A shield against the unchangeable truths of your true being. It was a sanctuary for those who were bruised by the world’s shallow reality.
Nature spoke to you. What has been written cannot be unwritten. You cannot change your genetics. Hoping for unrealistic expectations can ruin you mentally. The hours spent chasing an idealized face, the endless tweaks to defy nature’s design, all just to find the truth no surgery could erase. Some things are just not beyond our reach. It makes you think that external perfection could fix an inner void. Society gives affection to the beautiful, a currency of approval that can quiet the inner void, at least for a moment. The void you seek to fill, born of insecurity and loneliness, might seem smaller when people admire you, but it never truly goes away.
The looksmaxxing pursuit, then, becomes a double-edged cope: it offers a shield against rejection, yet chains you to an endless chase for validation that fades with time. You’ve seen it, the fleeting highs, the crash when the spotlight dims, the realization that love tied to appearance is a loan, not a gift.
Can the outer truly heal the inner, or does it merely mask the wound? Perhaps the love you gain is real, but its roots are shallow. Seek a deeper fill not in the mirror’s approval, but in the quiet strength of self-acceptance, where love, unearned by looks, becomes eternal. The choice remains yours: to chase the cope or transcend it.
I am a young teenager who has been in the community since I was 13. I share this story not as an outsider, but as one who has lived through it all.
Looksmaxxing became my cope—a shield against wishing to escape my inceldom. a shield against my hope to reach perfection.
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