A place for a


Envy is self-hatred

Envy is decried as unvirtuous and seen as an emotion directed at somebody’s success, but it is not. Envy is an impulse to compete, but this impulse – in the case of envy – is compulsive. That is, the envying person like an addict is not free to choose whether he wants to be better than the other person.

He simply must be superior. He does not even know why.

Logically, this compulsive obsession is alleviated the easiest way by crushing the tall poppy rather than outcompeting him.

The envious person feels bad when he sees success, because he feels the compulsive need to outperform the other person. How annoying to him. Best to create a microcosm where his superiority is never in doubt.

In any case, why the compulsion? It is the compulsion to escape self-hatred, triggered by being inferior. We learn how to treat our self – read: us – by how our parents treated our self.

We learned to hate ourselves when we were not the best. Or loathe. Or despise. Because we did not get the love we needed when we were not somehow superb.

Unreflectedly, there are two defense mechanisms:

  1. The cowardly way: Throw down another’s success.
  2. The noble way: Be at the top by beating the other dude.

Narcissistic culture propagates the noble way. Keeps the cash running. The Joneses and all that. And never forget the anti-depressive pills, yum yum.

Of course, one may suggest that one rather start to learn to treat oneself better and not hate oneself for being inferior.

But do you really hate the other person? No, you hate your idea and feeling of the other person. But these are parts of your self. Every hatred is self-hatred.

Self-hatred can be channeled into pointless heroism, but ultimately, it is a more or less conscious way of self-inflicted cruelty.

Envy is a self-destructive yet intuitive way off saying fuck you to those who demand pointless greatness of you.


Stoic idiot

Ten ways to pass a shit test. Agree and amplify. Smile and approve of her.

Right. Because if you get angry, you lose your frame. If you defend yourself, you already know she is right. If you fear something, you are already beaten. Blah blah.

If you show anger, you reveal pain. And a real man does not feel pain. No, especially not from a woman.

You think you are being condescending, but in reality you are just letting your enemies wreak havoc to your soul while pretending that everything is okay. You are inviting and rewarding disrespect.

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From the ugly guy


I am the ugly guy inside Tom.

I am not sure what you idiots want to hear from me. Yeah, I call you that. I am not whimsical at all, unlike Tom. He fears for you not liking him and respecting him and all that stuff. Me? I do not give a single fuck. For all I know, you could go off and die.

Tom wants me to write something here, some therapeutic bullshit presumably. He says it is long overdue; I think he should care less about you guys and more about himself. But whatever, maybe he can get some gems out of this, too.

What am I to say? Tom feels ashamed of me. He sees all I can do and wants to do it, but he is too proud to “come down to my level”. He sees me take one of those bitches he keeps thinking about but is too much of a disgusting coward to talk to. And he says he wants to do it, too, but he is lying. Tom wants to keep up some kind of image of innocence or stoicism or whatever idiotic ideal he invents or reads about on the internet. He feels that being like me would make him look dirty or something.

Yeah, Tom is a proud prince. Tom is a bitch. He does not even really care for you. How could he? He is a shadow of the man he could be if he accepted me as a part of him. He is a shadow and a shadow can not respect or like. A shadow can just be a shadow.

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Be a winner, not a hero

It is much harder – and more boring – to succeed than it is to uphold the appearance of struggle. Recently, I have come to live with this innate sense that courage breeds catharsis. In other words: If you just heroically break through your emotional barriers and risk something, you will be rewarded automatically.

Yet that is far from the truth.

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Switch off empathy

Look at the breast! Look at the breast! No, I don’t give a fuck if you think it’s funny! Do you think I’m joking, you fucking idiot?

My Muay Thai trainer never fails to remind everybody to never look into your opponent’s eyes. His reason is simple: You don’t want to know who your enemy is, how his day went, whether he’s happy, what his name is. You want to hurt him.

When I started training, I didn’t understand it. Back then, I was angry at the world and everybody seemed to be my enemy, especially other men. I wanted to beat people, I wanted to be hurt and I went there full of anger.

A part of the reason for training martial arts was to be among masculine men and learn to be like them. I wanted to be part of the group and was convinced that the only way was to be the best – in my current physical condition, that’s as far from the truth as can be. Always angry, I loved my first sparring and craved more. I had enemies and I was fighting them. I did want to look in their eyes and frighten them.

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Goodbye, Mama

I lie around on my couch, look around my room. It’s been a mess for weeks now. I feel mory from having told some girl on Facebook that she should get rid of her piercing. First time I have ever been called a bully. Once more baffled by the intense emotions that social pressure can generate, I let the moment sink in and listen to the sound of dust settling among the other dirt.

The door to my flat is open to let the air stream wipe through my little room and pass right out into the corridor. Outside, steps approach. I put my fingers into my ears, anticipating the ringing bell, but it doesn’t ring.

The people outside my room behave quietly. Who is this?

I unwillingly stand up and open the door. My mother and grandmother stand before me. I forbade them to come, but they came anyway.

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Capitalism: The hope of the hopeless – Part 2: Evaluation

Alright, I had promised you self-respect and values. And what I gave you was a story that probably left you a bit sick to the stomach. Why the fuck would I propose such a behavior? Well, on another note, why exactly did Tom act the way he did?

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Capitalism: The hope of the hopeless – Part 1: The play

People want to be confident. People want high self-esteem. These things are drugs. Why are they drugs? Because they are emotional states. You go to sleep a confident man and wake up drowning in melatonin that clouds your senses.

I plead for self-compassion, but even self-compassion is an emotion.

There is something that transcends emotions. Something that transcends feelings of inferiority and grandiosity, anger and sadness. Values and self-respect. With self-respect, you will win shit tests even if you lose the girl. That sounds abstract and weird, doesn’t it.

Continue reading “Capitalism: The hope of the hopeless – Part 1: The play