betrayed by 5‘8
htn Manlet out of form gymcell
- Joined
- Mar 17, 2022
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Everyone has ups and downs. That’s life. But when you’re short—truly short—those ups never go that high, and the lows? They hit deeper. You live with the ceiling pressed down on you. Not metaphorically. It’s a weight, constant and humiliating. It follows you into every room, every conversation, every first impression.
You try to improve yourself—eat better, dress well, fix your posture. You do everything right, and still… it doesn’t matter. You’re still “cute” at best. No one ever looks at you with awe. No one ever fantasizes about being with someone who’s 5’7. You’re invisible to most and a punchline to others. You’re always the guy people describe with an apology in their voice: “He’s nice, but…”
And if you ever needed proof, just look at women’s romantic fantasies. Read their favorite books—their escape into desire. These stories feature every kind of man imaginable. Brooding warriors, gentle giants, scarred bad boys, misunderstood vampires, literal beast-men, or orcs with glowing eyes and claws. Some aren’t even fully human. But what you’ll never find—not even in fiction where anything is possible—is a man who’s short. Not one. They would rather imagine loving a seven-foot monster than a man like you. Let that sink in.
In public, you’re always performing. Walking past people—especially women—you catch yourself subtly pushing up on your toes. Not because you think it makes a difference, but because there’s this pathetic, desperate hope that maybe those two or three extra centimeters will count. Even though you know they don’t.
You’re never fully relaxed. Not for a second. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that never shuts up: You’re not enough. You’re less. It’s not something you can silence with logic or effort. It’s built into how the world treats you. How women scan a room and look through you. How guys talk over you. How strangers assume something about you before you say a word.
You could be the most driven, disciplined, intelligent person in the room—and it wouldn’t matter. You’ll still lose to someone taller. Just because. And the worst part? There's nothing you can do about it. You can’t outgrow it. You can’t reframe it. You just carry it. Like a scar nobody sees but everyone judges you for anyway.
You’re not just short. You’re marked. And once you see how deep that goes, how much of life is shaped by things you can't control, something breaks inside. You realize happiness was never really designed for people like you.
You try to improve yourself—eat better, dress well, fix your posture. You do everything right, and still… it doesn’t matter. You’re still “cute” at best. No one ever looks at you with awe. No one ever fantasizes about being with someone who’s 5’7. You’re invisible to most and a punchline to others. You’re always the guy people describe with an apology in their voice: “He’s nice, but…”
And if you ever needed proof, just look at women’s romantic fantasies. Read their favorite books—their escape into desire. These stories feature every kind of man imaginable. Brooding warriors, gentle giants, scarred bad boys, misunderstood vampires, literal beast-men, or orcs with glowing eyes and claws. Some aren’t even fully human. But what you’ll never find—not even in fiction where anything is possible—is a man who’s short. Not one. They would rather imagine loving a seven-foot monster than a man like you. Let that sink in.
In public, you’re always performing. Walking past people—especially women—you catch yourself subtly pushing up on your toes. Not because you think it makes a difference, but because there’s this pathetic, desperate hope that maybe those two or three extra centimeters will count. Even though you know they don’t.
You’re never fully relaxed. Not for a second. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that never shuts up: You’re not enough. You’re less. It’s not something you can silence with logic or effort. It’s built into how the world treats you. How women scan a room and look through you. How guys talk over you. How strangers assume something about you before you say a word.
You could be the most driven, disciplined, intelligent person in the room—and it wouldn’t matter. You’ll still lose to someone taller. Just because. And the worst part? There's nothing you can do about it. You can’t outgrow it. You can’t reframe it. You just carry it. Like a scar nobody sees but everyone judges you for anyway.
You’re not just short. You’re marked. And once you see how deep that goes, how much of life is shaped by things you can't control, something breaks inside. You realize happiness was never really designed for people like you.
Go outside the only people that are pussy deprived are the non NT and facially ugly people. Face will always be law
