One despairful truth: Any girl could have saved you. Not one did.
You are one person. Saving one person with love is easier than drinking a glass of water. You've met countless human beings, of which countless are women who consciously decided that your suffering deserves no empathy and collectively decided that you don't deserve being saved. A high percentage of those then proceeded to reward causes of your suffering, with bullies being spoiled with sixty tons of love every endless year of your life. They went on to marry chronical abusers, get hit and spanked, and yet convince the media that the violent men are ones like you, because the ones abusing them "can be changed", while you can't.
I have been trying for so long to not be a misogynist. Yeah, no individual woman ever targeted me, but contemporary feminine culture have. How am I supposed to inhibit hate? How am I supposed to love and respect the system that stares at the abyss of my heart and ignores it because my kind is supposed to play a villain?
They killed me. Devils in dresses have mutilated my soul and I am, for all intents and purposes, dead. I have no objectives, I have no dreams, I have no aspirations, I have no ideas, I have no person I want to see smiling, I have no life. All I have is a moving body doing the will of my family.
It's a closed and dark empty room with nothing but a cabinet. On top of the cabinet, hate is in display. There's no door in this room, no window through which to leave, just hate on display on top of a cabinet. Should I stay forever in the corner of the room, proud that at least I'm not embracing that red-hot hate? Even though this representation of hate is filling the room with heat and a red smoke, luring me to have one single emotion?
It is over, and I don't mean it like the meme. This is actually the end.
Thank you, "queens".