Poisonpunk3
Hypocrisy is man's best weapon and worst foe.
- Joined
- Jun 20, 2024
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People-pleasers, court dancers and performance comedians instruct the weak-minded since the dawn of time. The unfortunate's currency is, as we all know, the fortunate's aproval. This is one of few methods one can use to differentiate between an inferior beings' complaint and the superior, hammer-wielding pioneer, whose instinct is to get the job done, rather than shine his paper and his worthless amendments requesting pay for his "sufferage". But in an uncivilized society, jestering (what the normgroids call it nowadays) is what keeps alive. Stuffing a kings mouth and arse with golden words, phrasing archaism to sound genuine and fake an intellect infront of masses, recycling and vomiting cycles of "relatableism" so the one beside you can moan his "MHM" or "Exactly!" every once in a while. This, this, sub-conscious or not, is what wakes that Subanimal pleasure of a humans mechanism to seek not his own laugh, but the grin of his peers.
Once you've established you're an asshole with only figurative self-respect, you have to realize that once you've chosen this path, each and everyone who also did, ultimately becomes controlling. Had you been in this game long enough, you'd also lose piece after piece of your own self, like a vampire paying a goblin to break and steal a shattered mirror's glass so that it may never be repaired. After being robbed of so much, it is only possible you'll reach the conclusion, you'd also stoop on the audiences level. You lust after grip, hoping you're still the one pulling levers, pushing buttons and maneuvering. Yes, you maneuvered already, just you blindly maneuvered off a cliff, right into the abyss, without realizing it. You've become a hypocrite. Not only you've become the opposite of what you originally were, you believe your own inferiority is in a symbiotic relationship with your flesh. It becomes rotten puss, gangrene. You stared so long into it, it swallowed you whole, wrapped it's tentacles around your veins and it is the only reason your heart still pumps. You willingly inhaled helium, and now you're "happy" you're on "life support".
Congratulations, you've reached midway. A few steps further, and you'll become a top-notch mod for r/inceltears, except you force your eyelids open, knowing nobody else willingly is ready to listen or assist, and come back to your senses. This is where you let it all go, flush it down the drain. You force your eyelids open, look up right into the sun's exposé and let them close again right after, letting nature take it's course. You accept it, the universe, another beings complex and complexes aren't Roku remotes you steer, hell, not you, yourself, cannot fully recognize what you are, only when your corpse is barricaded in it's grave you'll reach the answers you've expected. Let go of it all, you're insignificant, you're not unique, you're not special, you're just a century in Terra's history. Not more, not less, you're there and nowhere else in here, in this universe. When you've finally let go, when you tell life to go fuck itself and let it take you wherever it wants to take you, when you don't fight back anymore, when you tell yourself it's not your responsibility anymore, when you accept you've got no other reason, you just breathe cuz' you're too tired to find any, then tou'll find peace. Despite your best efforts, "your" cards weren't in your hands to begin with.
Once you've established you're an asshole with only figurative self-respect, you have to realize that once you've chosen this path, each and everyone who also did, ultimately becomes controlling. Had you been in this game long enough, you'd also lose piece after piece of your own self, like a vampire paying a goblin to break and steal a shattered mirror's glass so that it may never be repaired. After being robbed of so much, it is only possible you'll reach the conclusion, you'd also stoop on the audiences level. You lust after grip, hoping you're still the one pulling levers, pushing buttons and maneuvering. Yes, you maneuvered already, just you blindly maneuvered off a cliff, right into the abyss, without realizing it. You've become a hypocrite. Not only you've become the opposite of what you originally were, you believe your own inferiority is in a symbiotic relationship with your flesh. It becomes rotten puss, gangrene. You stared so long into it, it swallowed you whole, wrapped it's tentacles around your veins and it is the only reason your heart still pumps. You willingly inhaled helium, and now you're "happy" you're on "life support".
Congratulations, you've reached midway. A few steps further, and you'll become a top-notch mod for r/inceltears, except you force your eyelids open, knowing nobody else willingly is ready to listen or assist, and come back to your senses. This is where you let it all go, flush it down the drain. You force your eyelids open, look up right into the sun's exposé and let them close again right after, letting nature take it's course. You accept it, the universe, another beings complex and complexes aren't Roku remotes you steer, hell, not you, yourself, cannot fully recognize what you are, only when your corpse is barricaded in it's grave you'll reach the answers you've expected. Let go of it all, you're insignificant, you're not unique, you're not special, you're just a century in Terra's history. Not more, not less, you're there and nowhere else in here, in this universe. When you've finally let go, when you tell life to go fuck itself and let it take you wherever it wants to take you, when you don't fight back anymore, when you tell yourself it's not your responsibility anymore, when you accept you've got no other reason, you just breathe cuz' you're too tired to find any, then tou'll find peace. Despite your best efforts, "your" cards weren't in your hands to begin with.
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