BigJimsWornOutTires
Kraken
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2021
- Posts
- 20,362
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Serious. When I dated, when I didn't, when I'm in a LTR; my state of mind is constant. I could lose a lot; my soul stays intact. I could end up broke, roofied, and sitting in jail for taking the law into my own hands, yet I remain true blue.
People have gone out of their way, literally, to destroy who I am. Violate my spirit. Discourage me from trying. Some cleverly suggested I should end my life (one of my exes.) In contrast, others had selfish reasons and recommended medications. Why would anyone tell a happy person he should take mood-balancing antidepressants? Does that make any sense? I'm happy! Yet others believe I shouldn't be. Why?
Perhaps most of them aren't. Sad.
Break Me - Make me—Think Good.
I have lost so much, yet I stay breathing. I have been through so much, yet I keep breathing. I have endured impossible to survive circumstances, yet I'm still breathing. Why?
Everything is not what it seems.
Women are like men. Different. All unique. Some seek success - confidence - purpose - adequate survival. While others pursue fun - parties - pleasure me. Then you have ones that believe money, things, places to visit will make them happy. And yet some of them sit in billion-dollar mansions wanting to behead the housekeeper. Ugh. And most of those parasites believe everyone's out to get them. "They all want my money and to see me dead!" Double, ugh.
I've noticed most of you are seeking mates. Although some are on the job and have no other choice but to monitor Incel forums. And I'm not one of those drones, guys. I am who I am. But you all have created your own pickle. And so you depend on social networks, forums, vanity apps for instructions and purposes. Yet little do you understand, the ones that trend on those apps aren't there to help you, but themselves. Most of them are miserable fucks. But showmanship, putting on a smile, makes them happy in that moment of time. And the popularity and, if any monetary, gives them pleasure too. "Pleasure me!"
"Tis tis tis," said the cat watching the dog lick up its piss.
If you want an appropriate mate, thus a vagina to smash, slam, punch, jackhammer, yadda yadda yadda, you have to locate the venomous culprit inside you and chain it. Take away its power of influence. And that offender could be how you were raised—reminders from the enablers. Or it could be an expensive addiction. Or need to succeed and willing to pay whatever it takes. It could be fear. Restrict that power. Or control it.
Face fear with a grin.
And if you can be happy without a partner, would it matter if you have one?
Stop viewing those apps and social media self-righteous retardation. Restrict its power.
People have gone out of their way, literally, to destroy who I am. Violate my spirit. Discourage me from trying. Some cleverly suggested I should end my life (one of my exes.) In contrast, others had selfish reasons and recommended medications. Why would anyone tell a happy person he should take mood-balancing antidepressants? Does that make any sense? I'm happy! Yet others believe I shouldn't be. Why?
Perhaps most of them aren't. Sad.
Break Me - Make me—Think Good.
I have lost so much, yet I stay breathing. I have been through so much, yet I keep breathing. I have endured impossible to survive circumstances, yet I'm still breathing. Why?
Everything is not what it seems.
Women are like men. Different. All unique. Some seek success - confidence - purpose - adequate survival. While others pursue fun - parties - pleasure me. Then you have ones that believe money, things, places to visit will make them happy. And yet some of them sit in billion-dollar mansions wanting to behead the housekeeper. Ugh. And most of those parasites believe everyone's out to get them. "They all want my money and to see me dead!" Double, ugh.
I've noticed most of you are seeking mates. Although some are on the job and have no other choice but to monitor Incel forums. And I'm not one of those drones, guys. I am who I am. But you all have created your own pickle. And so you depend on social networks, forums, vanity apps for instructions and purposes. Yet little do you understand, the ones that trend on those apps aren't there to help you, but themselves. Most of them are miserable fucks. But showmanship, putting on a smile, makes them happy in that moment of time. And the popularity and, if any monetary, gives them pleasure too. "Pleasure me!"
"Tis tis tis," said the cat watching the dog lick up its piss.
If you want an appropriate mate, thus a vagina to smash, slam, punch, jackhammer, yadda yadda yadda, you have to locate the venomous culprit inside you and chain it. Take away its power of influence. And that offender could be how you were raised—reminders from the enablers. Or it could be an expensive addiction. Or need to succeed and willing to pay whatever it takes. It could be fear. Restrict that power. Or control it.
Face fear with a grin.
And if you can be happy without a partner, would it matter if you have one?
Stop viewing those apps and social media self-righteous retardation. Restrict its power.
Last edited:
thanks sensei
