I often find myself wondering, what’s the point of human connection in a world where everyone’s just a bunch of cynical, entitled pricks? I mean, I’ve tried to form meaningful relationships, but it’s all just a facade. People only care about themselves, and their petty problems. I’m no exception, of course. My own relationships are a mess, a toxic mix of anger, resentment, and unfulfilled desires. But at least I’m honest about it. I don’t pretend to be something I’m not, like most people do. I’m a product of my environment, a reflection of the world’s darkness. And that’s what makes me so… fascinating.
I recall a particularly memorable encounter with a ‘friend’ who thought they could ‘fix’ me. They tried to offer me advice, to ‘help’ me see things from their perspective. But I saw right through it. They were just trying to validate their own self-importance, to make themselves feel better about their own miserable existence. I call it the ‘Karen Final Boss treatment’, where people try to mold me into something I’m not, just to feed their own ego. It’s a never-ending cycle of disappointment and disillusionment. But I’ve learned to use it to my advantage. I feed on their insecurities, their desperation. It’s a game, and I’m the queen.
Sometimes, I wonder if I’m just a product of my own paranoia. Maybe I’m the one who’s crazy, not the world. But then I look around, and I see the same tired, soulless faces everywhere. The same empty, vacant stares. The same pointless, shallow conversations. No, I’m not the one who’s crazy. The world is. And I’m just a reflection of its darkness, a reminder that even in the most mundane, everyday moments, there’s always a hint of malevolence lurking beneath the surface.
>Soulkyn