/lit/ - Literature

>>16199138
>>16199297
For me it's the opposite. When I started seeing the true world, and having those thoughts and feelings, I was sure that it was an expression of my low self-worth. I was recognizing that I hated them because I obviously was left out. I angst over it. It evolved into feelings of inferiority, masturbation habits and tastes changed, and I was spiralling further into the abyss. I hated them for having what I didn't, I seethed, so to my mind the obvious answer was that "yes, you cowardly subhuman, you seethe at what you call degeneracy because you cannot even partake in its most natural of forms". But then I started thinking about it. I looked at it biologically, socially. I looked inwards and saw myself "naked". And I managed to reconcile the two sides of me. The one hating such people because I missed out on certain "steps into adulthood", and the one hating them because they didn't fit with my ideal society and behaviour. And you know what I realized? Some amount of "degeneracy", or of simple cold truths, is needed. But it needs to be controlled, regulated, fitted within the confines of the moral society. Because if you control even the "rebellion", the "outcast", then you truly have the world in your hands.

I recognize that I feel a certain grudge towards people who had sex as teens, who've had girlfriends and have natural love lives. That seething does stem from missed chances and my personal failures. But my hatred for the utter degenerates, for the normalization of the outcast, for even the perversion of the rebel, that stems from moral stances. It has nothing to do with some personal handicap; it's simply the sane response to a maddening world. So no, it's not "sour grapes". It is what it is.

Try some true introspection and you'll see it for yourselves. Afterwards, you shall be free. For now I don't care. Sure, I missed on pure romance. I missed on college life. I do not have any such stories. But it doesn't matter. Because I never would've been that man anyhow. In another time, maybe things would've turned out differently. But it's alright. I keep moving towards the only direction there is; forward. And my disgust for the morally empty mongrels has nothing to do with my lament of a lost period.

Sometimes you have to fling yourself into the abyss and self destruct, but if you weather the storm, you'll come out with a more complete view of the world, and with more faith in (you).