The muttering of a deranged hag

You can never be sure with these people.

They might go weeks or months being respectful, then get triggered and revert to their old behaviours.

The ways that they learned on their isle of abusers, internalized deep within their abuser bones.

It is hard to predict the cycles of abuse, and indeed a waste of energy. It is better not to think about it, not to be vigilant against it, but just to deal with it when it comes.

At least now the actual pattern of abusive language is clear to me – it is the same every time.

The hag will mutter under her breath within ear shot about how I am selfish, thoughtless and disrespectful.

The trigger could be anything, but its not possible to stop. The hag will find a way to attack you.

What can be done is to understand why the hag is acting the way she is and to counter her bile.

Am I selfish for looking after myself? No.

Am I responsible for an adult who has no disabilities? No.

Am I disrespectful for refusing the hag’s culture? No – by opposing her superstitious villager culture I am actually practicing respect for humanity.

Am I thoughtless? Not at all. If anything I am putting the needs of an ungrateful, religious piece of shit above decent people. I am treating her too much, being too soft and kind.

Her behaviours are that of a deeply damaged and pathetic human being. I wasted many years trying to help, draining myself and losing the best years of my life in the process.

This angry hag has not changed in a decade and will not change. It is not my responsibility, it is not my burden.

I am the warden of my own soul and have the capacity to put shields up, to keep the vile influence of this abusive piece of trash at bay.

I have the power to deflect the stupidity of this villager, the inverted anger, that sense of defeatedness that comes from battered children who were too afraid to confront their batterer.

I will not mimick these people, these sad and pitiful people, no matter how deep their curse runs in my blood.

Their history is not my history, their religion is not my religion, their character is not my character, their language is not my language.

Their influence needs to be cleansed from every corner of my soul. Their abusive culture, when they die, needs to be burned in fire and forever forgotten.

Every last trace of them needs to be purged from this earth and then we can start living.

Affirmations for rejection

‘Ten thousand people can say a football is square. It does not make it so.

Ten thousand people can say you are worthless. It does not make it so.’

Everyone is going to have to deal with rejection at some point in their life. Some people have more disadvantages than others and will be rejected more – but everyone has to face this demon at some point.

Whether it is being turned down for a job, having a manuscript returned unread, failing to sell anything at a market place, getting turned down by a woman – rejection is inevitable.

For years I was raised to place my self-esteem in the hands of others; to seek affirmation from them. I believe this to be the ‘default setting’ of our social species.

However it is a destructive setting – the more so if you are starting from a disadvantaged position where you will face more rejection than most.

I have repeatedly been given the same bad advice to deal with this – keep on trying and eventually you will succeed.

This is possibly worse than telling someone to give up!

With every rejection I faced, I subconsciously internalized my own lack of self-worth. I placed my self-worth in the hands of others – especially in the hands of women who we, as men, are taught we need to chase and pursue and be affirmed by. Bit by bit I had my soul taken away from me, until only a hollow shell remained.

Like a coastal shelf slowly building up at the bottom of the sea; like limescale growing in a kettle; like mould growing on a window sill, my mind was clogged up by feelings of total hopelessness and worthlessness. I tried and tried and tried to succeed, but I did not deal with rejection effectively. Eventually I was feeling the rejection before even trying; a whole complex of neglect and abandonment was taking over my mind.

This is where affirmations come in to turn the tide.

With affirmations you can turn ‘She isn’t interested in me, that means I must be worthless’ into ‘Its my loss but its also her loss. Lets process the disappointment and move on.’

By recognizing that the other person is also losing out – by not hiring me, by not reading my manuscript, by not wanting to go for a date – I am telling my subconscious mind and ego that I am valuable; I have something to offer the world and this isn’t changed by another person’s rejection.

I am not internalizing rejection but rather the opposite – internalizing self-value.

It really is that simple. Every rejection is an opportunity to re-affirm your own self-worth and highlight how the other person is missing out.

Now there are a few more points which need to be covered for the sake of elaboration.

Firstly there is the question of ‘what is rejection and what is just circumstance?’

Sometimes you will not be accepted because it just isn’t the right time for you to be, not because someone else thinks you are unworthy.

Many years I ago I was hanging out with a woman for the first time. We had a great time and were getting on like a house on fire. About three hours in to our meeting she launched the B-52 of life and dropped the B-bomb: ‘So me and my boyfriend…’

Instantly the mood of the meeting changed and I had to suddenly deal with intense feelings of disappointment. A traumatized part of myself might have recognized this as rejection.

But this was not rejection, it was circumstance.

It is important to think logically about encounters, to identify when someone is actually rejecting you.

I imagine that by dropping the B-bomb she was indicating the boundaries of our relation as a friendship.

I recognized that I am not obligated to be ‘just friends’ with anyone, but this woman was warm and funny and intelligent. I wanted to be her friend.

We continued texting until she suddenly stopped responded. I tried a few more times, then realized she had gone. Loads of men complain about being placed in the ‘friendzone’. I just got put in the ‘ghostzone’!

Am I going to feel a sense of rejection from this actual rejection of friendship?

No. It was her loss as well as mine. The disappointment is processed and I long since deleted her number.

Lastly there is the question of ‘When I am affirming myself, how much do I need to recognize that I am not perfect and still need to improve myself?’

There is a danger in self-affirmation that you are assuming you are god’s gift to humanity and everyone should fall at your feet. This is unrealistic.

In a free and decent society individuals have choices and no one owes anyone else their love, a job, their friendship, to publish their book, and so on.

Rejection is built in to this system by virtue of what it is. In other words, freedom necessarily entails rejection.

People are entitled to their own opinion. They can think my writing is bad it they want, they can think I am not suitable for their shitty little job, they can think I am not good enough to be potential partner material. That is their opinion, I am not going to internalize it.

I am not going to give people platitudes of ‘You will meet someone eventually’, because I know there are no guarantees. Life will reject, reject and reject again.

But that is fine. That is the very essence of life. Some of us get more rejected than others, some of us are completely undervalued, but this is our struggle.

The challenge is to recognize what is valuable in ourselves but also be modest and reflective enough to know where we need to change and grow.

Self-affirmation doesn’t mean ‘I am perfect’ it means ‘I am good enough to be worthy’.

Ten thousand people can say a football is square. Their opinion is false.

Ten thousand people can say I am not worthy of them. That is quite simply their loss.

Never got to live, never got to love.

Some people never got to live.

They were killed in a war, or starved in a man-made famine.

Others got to exist, but not to live.

They were abused and unwanted, so they attracted abusers and got rejecters.

The only emotions are anger and sorrow, burning the soul out like a candle.

Some people never got to love.

They got used by men and dumped without a second glance. Or they got ignored by women who never bothered to give them a chance.

Life and love isn’t a universal that everyone can have. It never has been and it never will be.

So when well-meaning people say there is something out there for everyone, what else can they expect from me but frustration?

Don’t they realize how unevenly god distributes among its children?

Endure like mountains endure

Life is slipping away.

Let it go and let it die.

I could kill this spark myself most days and let a passionless mind remain behind.

The people who tell you to live and love are liars speaking from their place of privilege.

Fuck them and do not concern yourself with how they respond to you. They are not worth your concern.

Your quest is just to survive, just to endure.

This is not necessarily a bad thing – this is what can make you stronger than those fucktards.

Endurance cultivates strength and challenge drives evolution.

Don’t be such a pussy! Endure like the mountains endure. Know yourself like the sages know.

Silence the voice which speaks of illusions, the voice that wants recognition, the voice that compares to others, the voice that demeans your lack of success.

Kill your dreams, kill your ambitions, kill the desire for love and leave space for God to emerge inside you.

This is the only consolation for the scarred and the hungry.

If you are marked by darkness you cannot compare to the people with easier lives – this will cause resentment, frustration and violence.

Support others whose lives are going through endless shadow and fuck all the rest – you owe them nothing.

A worthless piece of shit father

This blog has often focused on the issues immediate to my concerns – shouting old women, extreme feelings of anxiety, mysteries of depression. It has touched on wider causes, but never gone into detail regarding the biggest cause of our collective suffering.

The worthless piece of shit father.

For this insecure, narcissistic, twisted little man, the failings of his offspring are not accidents of ignorance – they are part of his subconscious plan.

He is a past-master at creating problems and then leaving them for others to solve.

He failed as a protector – leaving us all with deep scars of pain and trauma; a distrust of the world which makes happiness impossible.

He failed as a husband – shamelessly battering his wife in front of us, failing to meet her desires, leaving her to decades of isolation and sadness.

He failed as a mentor – poisoning us with his narcissism and abuse, infecting us with his arrogance and inferiority complex.

He failed as a teacher – he taught us nothing but how to be a violent abuser, he never had the patience to teach us how to read and write but expected us to instantly learn what he thought was important (naturally, he was looking for excuses to violate and abuse).

He failed as a caregiver – he has done almost nothing to aid me (and even if he did help, he used it against me later), kicked us all out of ‘his’ house, showed hardly an ounce of love and never took our childhood affections for him seriously.

He failed as a man – a spineless, authoritarian coward who exuded broken masculinity and inferiority, a whelpish overgrown child who never did a single thing to better his condition.

In short, he was a useless piece of shit.

Even into his sixties, he remains a worthless piece of shit. A pathetic failure of a man who deserves no compassion and no empathy. A brutish imbecile who repeated every suffering committed against him. A mindless masculine idiot without an ounce of self-awareness. A coward who never faced the shadows within himself. A narcissistic, self-crowned king, who no one cares for and no obeys.

Cutting that demi-sentient waste of sperm and consciousness out of my life was one of the most liberating and energizing things I have ever done. Though I still have to deal with the consequences of his actions – the people he has retarded and battered often lash out at me instead of him – nonetheless I must never take for granted how it feels to have told him to fuck off.

I am no longer under the shadow of that stunted retard and adapted myself to rely on him for nothing. The one thing I have to ‘thank’ him for, was that he was so useless and toxic that I was forced to become independent and self-reliant faster than most people.

Why the others still waste time on him is beyond me, but I look forward to his come-uppance of decades alone and unwanted, slowly withering away until he is left with nothing but self-pity to keep him warm as his final dusk beckons.

I told him before and I tell you now – I will not even the site of his grave, not even to have one final laugh at his expense.

The trap of empathy

I am a very empathic person.

I feel the emotions of others very easily.

Even just hearing their emotions, I have no real barrier to stop myself from feeling what they do.

I need to use music to drown out the whining voice of the depraved people around me.

I wait til they are gone before going into the kitchen and move swiftly (I would rather starve myself than hear the abuses of sick people).

I wondered – why did I develop such empathy?

I realized – so that the abusers could use me to solve their problems.

Or to use me as their punching bag.

I was chosen as the one in the ‘family system’ to take on the problems of others.

My role was not to have any real internal life of my own, but to ‘be there’ for the abusive adults whenever they were feeling vulnerable.

The development of this empathy may have a thousand other good applications.

It has brought me closer to people and helped me develop an advanced eco-socialist perspective.

But it has left me hollow. When I do not fulfill the narcissistic needs of the abusers, they try to attack me.

Not only do I feel the pain of their degradation, but I also take on their pain and disappointment on top of it.

But not anymore. I will not be a hollow empath anymore. I will not be a sensitive and pathetic snowflake to be used and battered by other people.

That is the path to self-destruction and the continuation of the abusive ‘family system’ – that evil which stretches back centuries to third-world villages, under the shadow of a patriarchal religion.

I am not here to be an empath but a demolisher – to destroy and scatter the worthless values of these people.

The first step to that is to learn to turn down empathy, to feel compassion for myself and leave them to suffer. For that suffering is the result of their own narcissism and stupidity.

The people trapped in time

They are trapped in their trauma

Victims who cannot overcome their victimhood

Victims who slowly warp into copies of their abusers.


Their ways are irrelevant;

Holding keys to doors which have long been destroyed

Looking over their shoulders for violent parents who are now dust

Despairing beneath the shadow of a god who has faded away

Repeating their mindless wisdoms which were never true

Passing down their poisons across generations

The same pointless cruelties, the same demeaning tones;

In the voice of one harridan is a lineage of a thousand abusers

The same affects of a bruised abuser, a neglected neglecter

The overgrown children trapped in time

Centuries of pain and punishment, striking downwards

Until the stick strikes my shield.


Now I know

As the youngest loses control of his arms and legs

Stutters and stumbles over broken words forged in his broken mind

The inheritance of his vile grandfather

Now I know that I must be the one who turns this tide

To not only push forward into a brave new future

But check the demons who want to turn me into one of them.

My nature, my very essence, leans toward violence and evil

But I am more than just that essence and I know I can transform it

Forge the black rage into strength against evil

Turn the sick creed of religion into a blossoming spirit

The thousand generations to come are depending on me;

The first demon-slayer.

Insecure abusive men

The insecure man abuses women because he wants to control of her soul.

He does not feel like he has anything of worth inside him; he does not feel like he will ever be chosen; his consciousness is dominated by neglect and abandonment.

So he takes by force – threat of violence, control of finances, guilt and manipulation.

The abuser is nothing less than a coward who is afraid to reveal himself.

This means that the most courageous is the non-abusive man.

Even if he is never chosen – and that is a great many of us – still he does not resort to abuse and manipulation.

The hero of masculinity is he who risks spending his entire life rejected and ignored.

He would rather be considered a loner and a loser – emasculated by men and women alike – than warp into an abuser.

And the saint of these unsung heroes is he who dies unloved by a woman, his heart never once darkened by misogyny.


Always pushing against the wall

Still the harridan tries to press its luck, looking for a weakness to attack me.

If I do not do anything wrong, it will invent something.

I have to always watch my back, be aware my belongings aren’t left in it’s reach, keep my locks closed and my secrets well hidden. The harridan always wants to intrude; it has no trust in  those around it.

It is inclined always to cause harm, an endless hurt-machine.

I have done nothing to harm this harridan, have spent nearly three years supporting it.

But nothing is enough. It doesn’t want well-being, it wants to abuse.

There is something deeply wrong with these people.

They are just broken and vile. They are sick, twisted, depraved people.

I shudder to even call them human. They seem so much like something less.

Every single one of them I ever met, from their generation, from that island, under that strain of their religion, was an absolutely vile piece of shit.

Their natural inclination is to attack and demean, bring everything around them down.

They have no understanding of boundaries, personal space, trust or dignity – a wretched and warped strain of humanity.

They do not ever sit at peace, in stable inertia, but are like laws of entropy against any form of order.

They will always push against the wall until it starts to give; always try to see what is on the other side, even if they are forbidden to.

They are villagers, from some awful place, a place of religion and superstition.

Child abusers and domestic violence is their culture.

Self-destructive, narcissists and abusers.

The harridan cannot even meet it’s own needs, it is that irrational and short-sighted.

It is like a parasite that is happy to kill its host, even if it dies shortly after.

I managed to beat back this vile harridan through a mixture of fear and benevolence (just like the even lower life form that preceded it; the arch piece of feminine-garbage I left to die alone on its death-bed).

For a long time there was peace and order – but the harridan wants chaos and war.

It wants to tear down and destroy, it wants to rule the roost, even though it cannot manage it’s own life.

It has no direction, it has little humanity, it is just a vile piece of human garbage.

You should not feel sorry for pieces of human garbage.

When they die, I will not weep for them. I will inherit property and burn every artifact that ever belonged to them.

The burden of abusers

Abusive men cause the problems.
Decent men clean up the mess.

Until one day
The decent men run out of vigour
Tire of being the punching bag of some borderline
Tire of being lumped in with violent pieces of shit
Tire of feeling guilty for crimes they never commit
Tire of the thankless, endless duty of care
Tire of being called trash by dogmatic feminists
Tire of providing for ungrateful, bitter harridans
Tire of being used to feed chaotic addictions
Shrug their shoulders
Abandon their abusers
Drop their burdens
And start a new life for themselves;
Finally, after all that time
For themselves.