A place for a


Fat kid, I am your sweet chocolate, women, I’m your nice guy

Words hurt me because school taught me that those words hurt others. If people say something is dangerous and very damaging, you tend to believe. Especially when they are so fucking grown up and should know, right.

Grown ups. Hey, you fucking grown ups. I am big now and I’m no better. Will you not tell me how to grow up, finally. But you don’t know it yourselves, do you. No one told you how to be grown up, but somebody gave you the right to educate me.

Now I am to be self-responsible for a life full of your mistakes.

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Why SJWs hate beauty

This was originally meant to become an article about why a narcissist finds it hard to enjoy the company of confident men or, as he would call them, assholes. I grew up without a father, with a mother who would give me anything I wanted, and more. I score very high on covert narcissism tests and I exhibited a lot of SJW traits a few years ago, so I can tell you from experience rather than from observation, what makes someone like that tick.

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One day, you will make a woman very happy

Oh, that’s wonderful. One day, a girl will love me just the way I am. Wait, what? What the fuck do you mean, one day I will make a woman happy? Fuck you. What do you think I live for, wanton witch? You make me happy, girl, or you leave.

I am to search for the woman that I will make happy? Hell, no. Why did I hate women? Because every time I see them, I feel the need to prove how great I am. My mother brought me up to make a girl very happy. She and the other old hags, her friends, would say what a great man I had become. Hell, I was proud of that.

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Andreas Lubitz, I love you

I walk past the newspaper stand. Big letters say “He”. Wait, where did I hear that? Oh right, I myself called him the he. The devil. Seems stupid, I only see the picture of a guy at the beach. I laugh out loud. Yeah, he. Uh-huh.

The devil is scary, sure. But there’s some excitement involved in fighting him, undeniably. He is the absolute evil. He is exempt from morals. Or is he?

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How much of a man do you need to be?

Three acquaintances of mine were or are seeing a psychotherapist. One of them is becoming a good friend and I can see that he is making great steps to become the person he wants to be. He often asks me if I am going to consider psychotherapy.

Another friend joined Scientology. From what I see on his Facebook wall, he’s meeting lots of people and engaging in many social activities. He looks happy on his pictures. He is certain that Scientology’s pursuit of a free mind is quite the thing I would like.

Just two of many examples of people who live a life I don’t. People who surpass me in social skills, courage, confidence, strength, intellect, spirituality.

I see their flourishing personalities and feel a deep desire to be on par. Yet apart from the guilt of not being good enough, I don’t really wish to do anything about most of it.

How much of a man do I need to be?

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50 shades of a oneitis – meet Christian “Nice Guy” Grey

This is a movie review of “Fifty Shades of Grey” and a great study on the wicked way women want men to be.

How many women have lived here? – Fifteen. – That’s a lot of women. And it’s a lot to believe, too. Christian Grey, self-proclaimed people’s person, looks away in annoyance and shame when he sees a confident guy make out with Ana’s friend.

E. L. James’s so-called dominant is a bit like me, the perfectly controllable covert narcissist. On first sight, Christian Grey is an absolute alpha, desirable and intimidating. But Fifty Shares of Grey was written by an obese woman who doesn’t feel worthy of – if entitled to – such a man, so she needed to castrate Christian by making him obsess over Ana. James conceived a bland feministic narrative that ostensibly exposes the sickness of man’s sexual aggression, yet unwittingly demonstrates the uncompassionate cruelty of a spoiled girl’s fantasy. Oh, well, it’s just entertainment and a harmless fantasy. Wrong. Everything has a meaning.

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Growing up without a father – Part 2: Away from home

Every place I went, I would start out to please everybody with my behavior. Only to get bored and show my dark side with time. Isn’t it curious: Girls are like that! They are really sweet, but do something they dislike and they become monsters.

At the boarding school, I would live in a smaller group secluded from the main building, as I was some kind of special case. I was in a room with two other guys. One I had met at my introduction day; he had taken a photograph of me and for that I had strangled him with the camera strap, destroying the camera, making him cry. We became friends. The other guy was a complete sissy, going to sleep with his teddy bear. I became his bully. I also made my first experiences with agonizing envy towards a guy who, at the age of 16, told me how he had fucked a hot girl. How she had wanted him. I was a fat little boy with a high-pitch voice. I would know no other action than to agonize over the injustice. I demanded the universe to serve me with fortune alike. It didn’t.

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The pain of status and rivalry

I am observing a man and two women at the restaurant. My chest is compressed by an invisible pressure strong enough to make it difficult to breathe. What is this? Why should it be so painful to simply look at people?

My gaze is reciprocated a few times, but never held for an extended period of time. My chest loosens up and I calmly continue my observation: A rather uptight, very properly and boringly clothed man is accompanied by two women; despite his glaring uneasiness, they exaggeratedly laugh at things he says, sometimes conjuring a smug smile on his face. Neither he nor they seem to be honestly enjoying themselves.

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The truth behind narcissism and the wish for power

This is a moment where everything falls into place and starts to make sense. An epiphany. I actually already had this important realization once in my life. But I didn’t write back then. Luckily, I will not have to make the mistake of forgetting again.

Psychological jargon is often confusing and quite analytical. The integration of mother-objects and whatnot. It may have some merit to have a scheme and a model, just like the Bohr model of the atom. Yet this model is way more helpful for empirists and people who want to sound smart. It’s also okay for psychologists who want to speculate about the causes. But to the narcissist himself, a list of symptoms is a useless joke. How will that help him understand his problem?

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Review of “Manipulism and the Weapon of Guilt”

Or: Is dystopia real?

Manipulism and the Weapon of Guilt: Collectivism Exposed is a book written by Mikkel Clair Nissen, a man I have known through Facebook for two years and whom I value as an honest person and discussion partner. I wish I could say friend, but I have not met him yet. There will be a time for that.

Mikkel’s book touches upon a topic that has had great impact on my life: narcissism and the politics that a narcissist desires, namely a welfare state.

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