The “friendzone” – You Brought it Upon Yourself

You know those guys who complain about why they are in the “friendzone”?

It’s funny how they proclaim themselves as “nice guys”, when in fact they are a bunch of self-centered egotistical idiots.

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But seriously, if you are under the guise that you are superior to the guy that stole your crush, you’re no different than the “douchebags”. In fact, that’s exactly why you got “friendzoned” in the first place – because you’re a fucking selfish prick who believes that you’re entitled to having a girl.

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Proptip: Doing “nice things” doesn’t mean that people owe you love. 

Also, calling a girl a bitch after she rejects you shows your true personality: an arrogant self-entitled prick. Women are not material possessions. They are not tools used for your own personal gain. Women are people, not robots programmed to have sex with you 24/7. Pull your head out of your ass and get a fucking grip at reality.

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…and you still wonder why no one wants to hook up with you

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Political correctness: The cancer that is killing satire and free speech

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Political correctness is getting pretty ridiculous nowadays  It has been ruining our speech, our holidays, our TV programs, and basically any form of pop culture or media. Worst of all, PC is undermining our first amendment rights.

Comedians are being forced to make public apologies just because a few people were offended by a joke or skit. It’s also impossible to make satirical posts without being called edgy.

We are also being forced to obscure anything that has to do with religious symbolism because of the fear of offending Muslims, Atheists, etc. As a matter of fact, toy manufacturers have been forced to recall products if they remotely resemble a temple, mosque, etc.

We cannot publicly display patriotism because of the fear of offending minorities. It’s so ridiculous that kids aren’t even allowed to mount American flags on their bicycles because, according to school officials, the American flag might cause racial tensions.

We can’t even hold our opinions on specific topics without being called racist, bigoted, etc. I’ve been called a racist for disagreeing with many of Obama’s policies, have been called antisemitic for my opposition against Zionism, and have been called a self-hating Mexican/race traitor just because I oppose amnesty and the Dream Act. PC is effectively silencing people with different opinions.

The ludicrousness of political correctness has made society soft, sensitive, and spineless. We can no longer enjoy jokes or satire without taking it seriously. It’s only a matter of time before everyone in this damn country forgets the meaning of satire.

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Political correctness has also been ruining my Facebook page. We, the admins of Hatsune F***ing Miku, cannot use specific words (gay, faggot, retarded, nigga, etc) in satirical posts without having someone report the living hell out of it. Not only have these reports been hurting me, but it has also been hurting the other admins on the page. A report punishes all admins, whether we made said post or not.

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We’ve seriously had it with pandering to these sensitive folk that cannot take jokes. Just because we use words that you’re afraid of doesn’t mean we are going to make changes to our posts. If something about our posts bothers you, you can just ignore it and move on with your life. It isn’t so goddamn hard to unlike the page, and we don’t mind if you do so.’

Edit: On the internet, the suffix -fag refers to extreme obsession. Said suffix has nothing to do with homosexuality or homophobia.

Relieving Melancholy Through Isolation: A Half-assed story of my life

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It’s Saturday night. People are going to the movies, watching the football game, going home with friends and family, etc. What am I doing this Friday night? I’m just here at my dorm, playing video games on Steam and browsing threads on an imageboard.

I’ve lived in solitude for most of my high school life. I was the mute kid in class. I was always silent, I never showed any expression of emotion, and I never talked to my neighboring classmates unless I was spoken to. I had the personality of a robot. I spent my lunch time at the library, every day, doing nothing else but reading books or browsing the web on my smartphone. Hell, even my smartphone lacked any incoming text messages or calls. As a matter of fact, I only used the damn thing as a glorified web browser and as a music player.

Why did I choose this lifestyle? Why did I refuse social contact with anyone? Why did I refuse to leave solitude?

It’s because of traumatic experiences that I had in middle school and in the 9th grade.

During those early years, I was bipolar. My classmates knew that I would snap if insulted, thus I was tormented just on a regular basis because they wanted a reaction out of me. I felt very humiliated; I was being used as a tool of their own amusement. I hated that feeling so much, that I wanted to take action into my own hands.

On January 2009, during CST practice testing week: A group of my classmates decided to “have a little fun with me” during the break. No one was there to help me; the incompetent instructor (soon fired after the incident) did nothing to stop them. Suddenly, I entered a state of mindless psychotic rage; I broke one of the legs of a nearby table and used it to bludgeon the nearest student. Out of impulse, I stopped beating him. I stood there, staring at his unconscious body.

“What was I thinking? I’ve nearly killed a classmate.”

After 8 hours, I was sent to a mental institution. The staff at the Dean’s Office figured that psychotherapy was my best treatment due to the fact that I had a mental disorder. I actually felt lucky that I wasn’t incarcerated, which would have severely damaged my academic life.

Ever since those chain of events, I have feared talking to people because I feared being hated and feared being ridiculed. I’ve always felt that the closer I came in contact with another person, the deeper we would end up hurting each other. I also realized that the reason people did this to me was because they all knew my weakness. If I stopped giving them what they wanted, they would cease trying to provoke me. Thus, I sought isolation as my only means of escape and remedy. Doing so healed my psychological wounds, but carved newer lacerations onto my tortured soul.