I live in a concrete box. It is a drab room of pain and solitude. Every day I wake up and think to myself "today maybe" then I think to myself "yes" then I think to myself "no".
In my room there is a single CRT screen on a desk I stole from kindergarten. It burns my eyes as I stare, but it is all I deserve. I deserve to be burning.
My boss is cruel to me, my neighbor is cruel to me, the human beings on dating apps are cruel to me, my postal worker is cruel to me, the person reading this is cruel to me.
When I log onto the website of the cursed bear, I see the source of my alienation. It is you the leftist reading this. I have no chuds to displace and vent my feelings of powerlessness towards. I once did but there is not enough to go around in this new site. My only choice now is you.
I find an issue, any issue, to quiet my mind. My mind is loud it is screaming
"YOU ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE YOU THERE IS NO HOPE CAPITALISM WILL WIN THE LEFT IS DOOMED SUBMIT TO THE MACHINE YOU DO NOT DO ENOUGH IN A DAY YOU ARE A FAILURE YOU WILL NEVER FIND SOMEONE".
I pick a topic for seshing a struggle. My mind quiets. It opens its maw and prepares to feed on cortisol and misery. It is growing, it needs nutrients and vitamins and supplements and feasts to engorge upon.
Today the struggle is about beans, tomorrow it will be about diva cups, the day after that it will be about Pinocchio. I heap my pain on other users but it is not enough. I find an authority figure that cannot truly harm me; I find an admin, a sitemod, a lowly mod.
The admins and mods have power. I resent power. I must hold them accountable for having power. They are my boss, they are my neighbor, they are the human beings on dating apps, they are my postal worker, they are the person reading this.
I will start every post saying they do not do enough. They must attend to me, they will attend to me. I have a charred pit where my emotional needs should be. Feed me. Please feed me. You are either good or bad. You are either mom or dad. Come back I need you to tell me I am doing a good job of breathing if you do not I will punish you.
Anonymity shelters me and gives me voice when I have none. Here I am powerful, here I can destroy, here I can scream. Hexbear is my ring of hell. You are my dante or... even my virgil.
The outrage is reciprocal and eternal.
@Beatnik - you are dead and I plead for attention upon your sacred grave. hear my prayers and validate me with your absence as my mother and father taught me.