"No One Loves Me, And Neither Do I" 2011-01-27 - 4:26 a.m.

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I'm so sick of women.

But I'm not gay, so I'm kinda fucked.

Or kinda not fucked, as the case may be.

They just see the world and relationships so different than guys do.

And...

I just fail, every time.

You give them the best you have, and they don't care.

But the cheaters, and the woman beaters; and the general assholes, they're never single.

I'm a great guy.

I just need to get my financial situation in order, and I'll be a great catch.

Any woman would be lucky to be with me.

But I mean, there's plenty of guys sleeping on their girl's couch; broke as fuck, borrowing money from her

and they don't care. The girl, that is.

They're willing to stick it out with him until he gets his shit together.

It seems to be all about confidence.

And I'll be the first to say I do not have that.

But like, really girls? Is that all it takes?

As long as he can smile and come up and talk to you and be assured in what he does,

he can beat you, and cheat on you, and borrow money from you?

It's all ok as long as he's confident?

But even that doesn't matter.

It just seems like if you're there, when a woman's in the right mood; you're the love of her life.

And if her mood changes, she'll fucking drop you.

And, you know, what's your option, as a guy?

You just keep trying.

Hoping you're there when her fucking wheel of fortune is pointing in your direction.

It sucks, but there's no alternative.

Other than be gay or a hermit.

Or, I mean, I guess just start hitting women.

Be a woman beater.

Cheat on a girl, especially if she cares about you.

Those guys always have someone.

Personally, I don't think they deserve to have dicks.

But they're never single.

And cheaters have multiple women.

So I mean, is that the answer?

Women?

Treat you like shit? Hit you? Cheat on you? Just as long as I'm confident about it?

I'm so disgusted.

And hence I am single.

I'm being dramatic.

I'm anti-social, and shy; and at this age that's a deadly combination.

I'm just so mad.

I used to be able to think my way through problems.

I used to be able to talk my way out of shit.

Now, I'm surrounded by problems I can't solve.

Money, housing, jobs, women.

I can't think or talk or solve these problems; period.

I just fail at life, apparently, at 26.

S____, that motherfucker; he probably still hits D____.

But she loves him oh so much.

Me, I'll probably die alone.

It's no one's fault but mine, right?

Who am I whining to?

My fate is to die alone.

Great guy, good looking, big dick;

smart, charming, talented, funny;

I'll die alone.

That motherfucker, he'll hit her until they grow old and die together.

Nobody's interested in me, and nobody ever will be.

I'll never find a real job.

I'll never get back out on my own; I'll live here until my parents fucking die just like my aunt did.

My life will be the worst, most pathetic cautionary tale you've ever heard.

In the end I will amount to nothing.

If you die, and no one remembers you, did you ever exist?

I guess I'll find out.

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