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I have a very addictive personality, so I kinda know how you feel. Thankfully I've never drank or done drugs...part of it is I was just never interested in doing those things, but part of it is also knowing that I become addicted to things easily and I probably would become an alcoholic or a druggie if I were to start. So the problem usually manifests in eating, which is something you can't exactly decide not to do, lol. And it's not even that I can't say no to food. I don't eat when I'm not hungry...the problem is that once I start eating, I have a hard time stopping until I gorge myself. I've made some progress over the last few years...I've went from being 325 pounds to 296, but it's still something I struggle with. Recently I read an article which I think I posted here, about how a doctor struggled with cutting back on sugar until he started using an app where you send a picture of everything you eat on it to a nutritionist. I'm kinda interested in doing that and seeing how it goes.

I think there's a chance that it runs in the family too...my grandfather on my mom's side was an alcoholic and ended up dying in his 40s from it, long before I was ever born.

But I'm glad that things are going so great for you, and especially that you have a good social network to take care of you. We're such social creatures, and I wish I had something like that...well, at least I do online.

I am so happy about how things have turned around in Wintreath over the past few months...having people come over from the RMB and become part of our main community like Stigya and Svipjoth, and especially seeing Mars and Aren come back. The Schism, and what ended up happening, has haunted me for years. I feel like now that we're mostly reunited as friends and been able to talk some about what happened without feeling awkward about it, it's really let me finally put it in the past. I feel like the community has been able to do that too, which alone gives our community a much better vibe.

You should pop in more often, you know.

i show up whenever. i really dont have a whole lot to say, and im pretty much an unknown in wintreath these days anyway, so its not like ur losing anything by me not being there. i can only think of a handful of people in wintreath that know me to be honest.

and im kind of a night owl, when im around most people are asleep.

I disagree, people always enjoy when you come around, whether they know you or not.

There are plenty of night owls in Wintreath, too.

I'm going to go ahead and say this has a bit of a trigger warning on it... There is alot of abuse referenced in this.




"...You have an almost hostile exterior to defend yourself..." -Friend on discord-

"I'm going to be really honest, up till now you've had a shit life.  There are no good memories, and looking at your file, all I see are nightmares.."  -M. Stanford, prison counselor-

"You will not survive to the age of twenty-one.  You probably won't make eighteen..."  -Psychologist- (i was 16)

"I think alot of that anger you have when you see others laugh and smile, is from jealousy.  Those are things you've never experienced, and those are things that you desperately want to experience, but you can't..."  -Mrs. 'K', Therapist in prison-

"You got that 'don't fuck with me vibe.' " -Niko, bestest kind of person-

"I didn't talk to you because I was afraid of you.  You never laugh, you never smile, you hardly speak at all... it's scary to me."  -Jeff, friend-

"The biggest problem I have with you, is that you never talk. How the fuck am I supposed to know anything about you or your life if you won't talk?"  -My father-

"Stop being a whiny little kid, god, you piss me off sometimes!" -My father- (because i told him my ear hurt really bad. Ruptured eardrum)

"It's not that bad, it's just a sprain, stop your bitching and crying or I'll make you cry."  -My father- (I had a ripped tendon in my leg that required surgery)

"Does it hurt?" -My father- (i had a dislocated wrist)

"No, I don't have a gay son, there's the door, get out.." -My mother- (i just came out, i was 12)

"He's just a queer!" -My mom- (my parents were fighting, and I became the subject)

"I should have had you aborted when I had the chance..." -My mom-

"Just sign the inheritance over to me, it's not like you need the money.  You're gay, you'll never have a family, I do..."  -My brother-

"Look, man, I gotta be honest with ya, you intimidate me.  Fuckin lil ol' Mexican kid that might weight a buck twenty scares me.  It's because you got this aura about you. You never say nothin', you just do you and don't give a fuck what anybody thinks..." -'Smoke'- (former gang member out of chicago)

"I've known you for how long? Years now? And I don't know a fucking thing about you." -Brad, former co-worker-

"You seem super chill most of the time, but I think you're the type of person, that if somebody decided to piss you off, you'd make sure they never will again." -Adrian, discord friend-


"I've been a psychologist for forty years, working with victims such as yourself. In all of those people that I have helped and known over my the course of my career, you have suffered the most abuse. I am shocked that you have managed to survive at all."  -Dr. Cardineaux, my psychologist while on probation-

"Death will be a great adventure." -Peter Pan-

"Sometimes quiet is violent..." -Twenty One Pilots-

"There is a place beyond numb." -Me-


This was a really difficult one to write. I  know a person on discord that asked me what it's like to be detached, or alienated from the mainstream.  What's it like to be the outsider? I suppose I could have just given a pretty stereotypical, boiler plate response of the 'outsider looking in' or 'alone in the crowd.'  But, honestly that doesn't even begin to describe it.  In fact I think it does a disservice to it.  Sure, it can be those things, and it is to a greater or lesser degree, but it's like saying water is wet...

I don't know how many times I've described myself as a pariah or the shadow on the wall that everybody ignores, but it's been alot.  Being the pariah, however, is a deeply complex thing. It is the armor of solid ice I wear that keeps you from hurting me, but it's cold, it's lonely, it can be terrifying. It is both my blessing and my curse. And I believe it is a price that is not worth paying. I lose too much by being the outcast. So why choose to be the outsider, or freak, or reject or any of a million things I've been labled?

I don't choose to be.  I just am.

When i was going through therapy, both in prison and when I was released and on probation, one of the big questions they always had, and couldn't really be answered, is that yes, I am an introverted person, but which part of that is nature and which part of it is nurture? How much of keeping myself at arm's length from the world is because I've been so badly abused and traumatized?  Which part of that is part of my core personality?  None of the psychologists could give you an answer, and neither can I. I don't know.

I can say this though... I hate it. I fucking despise it. I hate that deep pit of fear I feel right in the middle of my chest whenever I meet somebody I don't know, or am around people I am not familiar with. I hate that anxiety and double guessing of what to say and whatever I say will probably make me sound like an idiot. I hate that I slam shut any window into my heart and soul to people that I do not know first. I am defensive and very difficult to warm up to because I am very distant, very cold, and quiet. And it's because I'm scared. Of course I will never admit that in person. May as well let the wolves in with that...

I am terrified of people as a whole, and at the same time, I need and crave social contact as much as anybody else, if not more so simply because of the lack thereof. I was very touch starved as a person because in my past, every touch was abuse.  Every touch was a fist, or a kick, or a wire hanger used as a whip, or worse. Do you know what it's like to be shivering in fear just because somebody is hugging you?  I do.

Out of 23 years, I have known 4 without abuse. Is it any surprise I recoil from from anything remotely social or "normal"?  When somebody simply smiles at me and treats me with kindness, and compliments my works or politely critiques me and helps me improve, instead of openly insulting or physically abusing me.. that's when I don't know what to do. It's a combination of many things, fear, confusion, frustration, sadness, and so many other things I really don't know how to explain.  The punches, the screaming and yelling, the insults, the bloody nose and the pain, both physical and emotional, I know how to handle. I've done it many, many times.  When every type of pain and abuse is your everyday life, common courtesy and simple kindness become the nightmares you can't handle.

There is a saying, I'm sure most of you have read or heard, 'When you are not spoon fed love, you learn to lick knives.' I've said this before in some of the channels on discord, and I've seen people joke about it and make fun of it; "better be careful or just use a dull knife"  "what about forks?"...And it was profoundly insulting to me to see people type those things. They made fun of a very real, very deep and profound saying about the ways abuse victims will seek validation, often in very unhealthy, very dangerous ways. I sure as hell did.

All emotions are valid.

That being said, I was unable to really understand that the people making those jokes weren't necessarily out to hurt me specifically or really anybody.  More than likely they were just trying to lighten up a pretty dark topic. I don't think they actually meant harm.  And that right there is the pariah in me. 5 out of 6 days of my entire life have been violent and abusive! Joking and laughing and making light are not things I did, not if I wanted to survive. Not if I wanted to see the sun come up tomorrow. There was no place in my world for laughter and jokes... only the bleak existence of struggling to survive and learning ways to ignore all the pain.  All of that time not knowing what love and laughter and happiness is, how could I possibly see a joke as anything other than a threat, or worse, mockery of a very real history of terrible, terrible nightmares?

When I was 15, I remember a time when I was walking home and it was winter, cold out, snow on the ground. It was night, sometime around ten at night I would guess. And I remember turning the corner to walk down the street where I lived at the time and I saw the red and blue lights of police cars at my house flashing. I think there was 4 or 5 of them. A normal kid would have been concerned to say the least. Me? I turned right back around and walked away. I wasn't concerned, I was annoyed. It disturbs me now, that at that young of an age, I was that callous. I.Did.Not.Care.  Looking back, I know now that I really wasn't capable of caring. Being under the constant threat of physical and emotional abuse, starvation, and a million other things, obviously my basic needs as a human being were not being met. And because of that, I was not capable of really putting out more effort toward really anything other than simple survival. I was at the lowest level of Maslow's hierarchy of needs.  Love and affection and things like that just weren't in the cards for me.

When I finally came home, many hours later, I remember walking into the house and nobody was there to ask where I had been, or whatever.  There was no angry parental unit waiting to scold me or ground me or whatever. There was nobody there that was brought to tears out of concern for me, wondering where their baby was and why wasn't he home yet. What I was greeted by, was knocked over chairs and furniture and the kitchen floor covered in broken glass. Do you think I had any fear or concern? Nope. I remember so clearly the sound of that glass crunching beneath the boots I was wearing as I walked across the tile to get the carton of orange juice from the fridge and drink it all before going to bed.

That was a common thing for me, events and scenarios like that. Often times they were much worse. Especially when somebody was waiting for me, because then the physical abuse was pretty much assured. And it wasn't just from my parents, my brother was just as abusive toward me. (Though he had walked out of my life when I was 12) I also had the wonderful christian church who said "Faggots have no place in heaven. Get out!" to me. So they weren't a great lot of help. And people ask why didn't I tell anybody like the police. The thing is, I did. I was in school, high school, and I just walked into my counselor's office without knocking and broke down crying. I just wanted all that pain and suffering and crying myself to sleep every goddamn night to stop.  The counselor did right and got the police involved, who had a small police station in the school itself.  The cop asked his questions and said, "Unfortunately, you're a minor. You don't really have any rights..." He then did me the favor of calling my parents and told them what I accused them of. I will not describe the violence I faced when I got home...

I learned on that day that when it really comes down to it... I am alone. There is nobody and nothing in this world that can help me or that gives a fuck about me. I. Am. Alone.

I also learned never to talk. Boys don't cry, wounds don't talk. Deep dark secrets the world can never know.

Talking got me hurt. Crying got me ridiculed. Emotions got me beaten. Everybody ignores the shadow on the wall. At least nobody is trying to hurt the shadow...

This was all happening to me virtually every day, and that doesn't even touch upon the sexual abuse that was happening, which I will never talk about here. When those who swear to protect and to serve, instead betray... when those that are supposed to love and nurture, abuse and starve... when God himself hated my existence... when asking for help brought about retribution... is there any great wonder as to why I became so callous and distant? Is there any wonder as to why I do not idly let anybody close to me?

It was only after I went to prison that I found people who cared about me. Ironically many of them were the very people society condemns, and yet they were more human than the world I know. It was after my release I was confirmed to be autistic, which doesn't help anything at all. I'm told by many people that you can see all that pain in the way I move, the way I hold myself and in my eyes.

All the abuse has stopped. That world collapsed. Many of the abusers themselves have passed away. And you would think that this is a good thing, and for the most part it absolutely is, like making a drug addict go sober cold turkey.  Now that all the yelling and screaming has stopped, and I don't have to brace myself for the incoming punches and kicks, now that I can get food, and sleep in a bed... now all that is left are the memories. Like the quote above, "sometimes quiet is violent." Sometimes those memories cause me to wake up screaming in the middle of the night. Sometimes they leave me curled up on the floor crying.

Is being the pariah nature or nurture for me? I don't know. Being tagged with autism helps me identify some of my own social anxiety and awkwardness, but not everything. And of course there isn't a cure or anything for it. Just a self awareness, but so too for abuse survivors.  We can't cure it, we can't erase the memories, we just learn to cope as best we can.

I don't want to be the outsider. I don't like being alone. In fact it's my greatest fear. Things have changed, and my life has improved, sure... but those scars and nightmares are forever.  How I perceive the world, is simply the way I will probably always see it. I want to have lots and lots of friends, I want to be the person that just fits in perfectly at any party or in any crowd and has no anxiety or fear. I want that so  bad it hurts... but it just isn't going to happen. Being that outcast is a life of an almost intangible desperation, the want to be loved, to be accepted, to be acknowledged... and living in fear of the very thing you so desperately want and need.

I don't want to be seen as cold, or scary or intimidating. It's not something I actively choose to do...but at least now I hope you can understand a little of why I am.

I value the days more than I can describe when I am sitting out in a grass field or something with a friend's arms wrapped around me and we watch the sun rise. I value the days when we can spend hours together laughing so much and so hard it hurts. I value the people that I'm not afraid around. I've given my life to a person who loves me despite the myriad of flaws I have.  I have allowed a very few people to see past that armor of ice I wear, and by no small measure of effort on their part and mine.

Being cold and distant, I hate... but it helps protect the last thing I really have that makes me human, and it is not much. Somewhere amongst all that hate and fear and anger and suffering, somewhere within that maelstrom of nightmares is the shattered remains of the heart of that little kid I was never allowed to be. I want to show the world I have that heart, I want to show the world that I am capable of love and kindness and so much more than all the bad things I present... but there is so much fear.

As I've said before, I am nothing more than the shadow of that little kid that died before he even had a chance to live. Yeah, I'm a pretty decently sized person witch muscles and works out alot.  Yeah I know how to fight and have more than my share of experience in doing so.  Yeah I can get really mean, really quick. I have an explosive anger and my temper is far from being great.  All of it, every bit of it, is just protecting that kid. That's it.

Yeah, I'm an adult, I'm a grown man, I can drink and vote and drive and all that bullshit.  Parts of me grew up far too fast... parts of me never got the chance, and there is where all that fear is. I call it that little kid that died because to me, that's the best way to describe it. It is unquestionably the most vulnerable aspect of me, and I have grown up enough that I am at least willing now to admit this is my flaw. 

When I'm confronted with new people...all I remember is the abuse. That is why I am so cold.  You cannot hurt me, if I don't let you close enough to hurt me. Abuse is insidious in that it infiltrated every aspect of my life.  It has not been long since those things were happening to me.  I'm still growing up, I'm still learning, I still don't really know how to let my guard down around people.  Some people, yes... everybody, no...

This is what it is for me to be the outcast. It is a continuous cycle of fear based on events in the past, dominating the now. It is the want for that human connection and being terrified of repeating the past. It is a cycle that feeds it's self, and I do not wish it on anybody.  

I would give almost anything, just to be human... that is what being the pariah is...

That was quite a read, and I admire that you were able to even find the words for the things that you've felt and are feeling. That's something that a lot of people struggle with, especially people who have suffered abuse.

And what terrifies me is that especially in this day and age abuse isn't that uncommon on this world...is it because it's always been that way and people feel more open to talking about it now, or is it one of the symptoms of the dysfunctional, stressful modern world that we live in? I suspect both, but it alarms me how common it's becoming, and how it almost always seems to come from one's family. To be honest, it makes me question the whole idea of family. I was just talking this week to some people about this...the idea is that your family is supposed to be this bedrock of support and acceptance and love, but that seems to rarely be the case. I think to some extent places like Wintreath have to exist because for many people it doesn't exist in their own home life...people need close friends and even a chosen family, like you seem to have offline now. I'm glad that you have found people whose presence and involvement in your life can help you recover...I do think you will recover even more as time goes on, as hard as that process may be.

At some point you mentioned the little kid that died before he even had a chance to live...are you so sure he's not just laying dormant within you? This may sound like an odd idea, but have you thought about taking some time out of life to play? Not like video games or partying or anything, but the sort of play that children do...legos and throwing frisbees and pretending fun things. There's an emerging idea that this type of play is good for adults too, and I suspect maybe it could be particularly good for someone like you that was never allowed to have a real childhood...maybe it's worth taking some time to try to live some of that childhood you never had. Just an idea.

Wanna see what's behind the armor of ice? That right there...

In response to you, moot, I know what ya mean by trying to be a kid. And it's not that easy to do. The concept is simple enough, but a lifetime of conditioning, PTSD, etc. etc. etc... these are not easily overcome, and a huge part of me, to this day, doesn't want to overcome them.  Paranoia and fear and that armor of ice I spoke of are the things that kept me alive. It's like asking a man who almost drown, were it not for that plank that just happened to be there, to let go of it while still being in the water.  He may well have learned to swim, he may be damn near to shore, there may be people there to rescue him and help... but the memory of what could have been, the possibility of still drowning will always be there.

And like anybody, I have my good days and I have my bad days.  The bad days are getting less and less frequent, but I think they will always be a part of my existence. Any number of things can trigger a flashback and it might just be a day where I'm unable to cope with whatever stimuli triggers it. It happens. I've had the flashbacks that left me as nothing more than a balled up person hiding under some random person's desk, screaming and crying, and in my mind, I was that 12 year old kid again, going through the that abuse again.  And everything was real, I could see and hear everything, I could feel everything, even smell the things that happened when I was there. Those used to happen all the time, and it wasn't that long ago that those happened frequently. I haven't had one in almost 2 years now I think, and I'm grateful for that. But sometimes I still wake up screaming. This is the life I get to live.

What happened has had (obviously) irreversible effects on me.  My PTSD will never go away. Certain noises and smells will always trigger me, certain topics are still extremely uncomfortable to talk about.  Some of my thoughts are anything but rational. For example, I have thought about having some or all of the scars on my body removed, but I'm afraid to because in my mind, I'll get them back, through the same way I got them in the first place. And I don't want to feel that pain again or that level of terror.

I'm a living monument of what abuse can do. And how bad it can be, or worse.

Funny thing is, in a morbid way, broken people seem to almost flock together. In my crew of friends, the people I actually let close and not just random people I barely know, we are all broken people.  We have all suffered abuse. I call us the 'Isle of misfit toys'. And I think we gravitate toward one another out of safety.  They understand the incredibly deep shame of being a victim and the intense vulnerability of admitting it or talking about it. They will never mock it or ridicule me, nor I them. They get it.
Those are the people I stay out all night with, laughing and being loud and obnoxious and just being... us. When we have strong emotional responses to something that 'normal' people would think nothing of, we understand it.

Like the first christmas gift I ever got, in my entire life, was not but a couple years ago. It was a plush bat that I named Edgar (Edgar Allen Poe). I grabbed him like a little kid and hugged him to my chest super tight and cried. Up to that point, nobody had shown me that level of kindness, as small a thing as it was. It has a little tag on it that says "For You, Lots of Love." I haven't taken that tag off, and I never will. There was soooooo much more than just getting my first christmas gift that was going on inside my head that made me cry. The fact that that was the first christmas that I wasn't locked away in a room so I couldn't partake. The first time I was not told that all I would do is screw up the holiday, or that I didn't deserve to take part of it, or some other lie, all of which are insanely devastating to a child's mind. This was the first time I was welcomed, and nobody there laughed or made fun of me for crying. My boyfriend's mom dropped everything and came over and held me and let me cry, so did her husband.  And both of them just kept telling me things like, "It's ok." "You deserve so much more." "It wasn't your fault."... things my parents never said to me. Nor did my parents ever hold me when I cried, nobody did.

For broken people like me, things like love and kindness and affection and validation are like emotional wrecking balls. We have never known these things, and when we first encounter them, and many, many times after, we simply don't know how to handle it. It is a strange thing to tell somebody that in that moment I was feeling, sadness, fear, and elation at the same time. Are they going to take my bat away? Are they going to start beating me? Am I going to be locked away and starved? Are they going to start blaming me for everything?... and utter joy because I got a plush bat...

What alot of people don't know, or don't get, is that abuse doesn't stop when the beatings and yelling stop. It lives on inside the victim. The bulk of my abuse ended when I was 16, yet the abuse still continued for more than 3 more years. And still does in a way. The nightmares and paranoia and fear are the echoes of that abuse that stopped 7 years ago. Even though the primary abuse stopped when I was 16, I still lived by the code I learned to live by. "boys don't cry, wounds don't talk. Deep dark secrets the world can never know." I still used my own body to manipulate people and get what I wanted, never mind the psychological warfare I was committing on myself, or the physical things that were happening. I was still insanely aggressive and violent. I still didn't laugh or smile or cry or anything other than get angry.

It took years before I could see value in myself that didn't involve me getting into bed with total strangers. I took years before I was able to really solve anything without throwing my fists. Everything that happened to me, turned me into something not quite human.

That fight I referenced in my previous post, about when I was 15 and coming home and seeing the cops at my house. It wasn't until after I got out of prison that I learned what that was all about. It was about me. My parents noticed that I was changing and becoming very difficult to control, very aggressive, very violent, and incredibly callous (ya think?). They were fighting because they knew they were losing me (they had already lost me.) and of course, they blamed each other and refused to acknowledge that they were both at fault.

Piece by tiny piece I can put myself back together. I can mend my heart and I can learn to laugh and love and even show emotions. I will never be whole. The scars inside will never go away. The shadow of the monster I had become to survive, will always be somewhere inside of me.

"...You have an almost hostile exterior to defend yourself..." That's the monster doing it's job. Protecting me from being hurt by you. Regardless of the person. It can also prevent me from feeling love and kindness though, because the mean exterior is meant to scare people away. I still do it, and I don't actively try to. It's just something I do now.

I'm getting better, I've cleaned up, I've grown up, I've learned that not everybody is out to get me. But I will never trust easily, and I will probably never let alot of people get close to me.

This is the price I have to pay for the things that were not my fault, and the things I had no choice but to suffer through, endure and survive. 

I understand...it's not an easy thing for adults who haven't gone through abuse to do. It's one reason just the idea is revolutionary, it goes against the idea in society that adults need to be more mature and bottle their feelings, especially men. But I do think it's worthy of exploring if and when you're ready to. The idea of just letting everything go and having fun for awhile is appealing to everyone on some level I think.

But you're used to going through things that aren't easy to do...a lot of your post is testimony of all that you've gone through and the work you've done and are still doing to overcome it. I know none of that has been easy either, but you've come such a long way. Even if you never completely overcome it, I think you've come a lot further than a lot of people in your situation do...we can just hope that things keep getting better for you.

I can understand why people who have gone through the same sort of thing would come together...it's just easier to relate to each other when you've shared similar backgrounds. I think that happens to an extent in Wintreath as well...a lot of our most active people tend to be loners or people that don't have a great social or support network offline, and so in a way we become that. Of course, there's plenty of people in Wintreath who aren't loners, but I've noticed that it's true for a lot of people in our community.

Hopefully nobody is mocking or ridiculing you for being a victim of abuse in the here and now though. I know things are wild in the world today, but I would hope decent people would not be doing that even if they don't entirely understand what you went and are going through.

anybody who would mock an abuse survivor is the worst piece of shit they can be. thats just sick to mock victims. I mean, i can understand people not understanding it, but i will never tolerate people mocking it.


and in other, totally random and completely unrelated news, me and some of my crew were out and about today gaming, and one of them said i should wright something up as in a story of me as a character in my hero academia, or somebody like me. I dunno how i feel about it. ive talked to niko about it, and hes always encouraging, but... i have my doubts about my ability to do that "universe" right.  there are lots of people that would get all upset cuz id get things wrong, im not terribly familiar with the universe and what is and isnt "canon"

ive been writing alot lately... this has got to stop lol

So I was out and about today, and in my local travels I hit up Starbucks and ordered something (vanilla frappe) and this blueberry bread stuff which is awesome. As I was waiting for my order, a couple of girls, i'd guess about my age, came strolling in and ordered drinks as well. One of the girls was just a normal white girl, brown hair done up in a simple pony tail, simple style of clothing, comfortable but at least matching.  The other girl was a petite little asian woman, maybe 5'4" black hair, cut kinda short, almost a punk style hair cut with the shaved sides, with the long hair hanging over to one side. Her style of dress was pretty casual, but you could tell she put effort into making everything accessorize and match.  Anyway, I over heard them talking about dating and various guys and going out to a movie or whatever. And the asian girl said "I don't think that's going to help me much, not as ugly as this face is."

She had some minor acne scarring on her face.  It wasn't at all bad. Honestly it could be pretty easily taken care of with laser surgery, or even with a simple makeup routine, it could be hidden.  Listening to her, I could hear the pain in her words.  She believed it. And she even mentioned some guys that would make fun of her and call her pizza face and things. 

Honestly, the scarring was not that bad.  Ive seen bad acne scarring before, she was nowhere in the realm of even being moderate, let alone bad. And I don't really know why, but I had to say something. I just piped up and said "You are not ugly."  

They both just looked at me in silence.  That was kinda awkward. So i repeated myself and told her again, "you're not ugly."  She very weakly said thank you.

She never gets told she's beautiful.  Those are words that are never directed toward her.  You could tell. I wanted to continue to say something, but she looked super shy and a little uncomfortable about getting attention.  So I shut my mouth and decided to find a particularly interesting and totally random article in a newspaper laying on the counter. (mountain lions near the city btw)

They were both really quiet. And the white girl finally said something, and they giggled and I overheard "want me to ask him? He's cute."  The asian girl was mortified and rather loudly forbade it. probably louder than she had intended. 

My order came up and I put down the paper and approached the counter to retrieve it. After grabbing them, I developed a slight case of the 'fuck its'. I turned to the white chick and showed her the rainbow ring I wear and said "It wouldn't have worked anyway, though I'm flattered you'd consider me."

lol they both rolled their eyes and the white girl said "of course you're gay. you're hot."

I put my drink on the little condiment bar every coffee shop has and got my straw and a couple of napkins and turned to the asian girl and said "look, you're not ugly.  You're actually pretty.  You're beautiful. Just because I'm gay doesn't blind me from knowing what a pretty girl is, and I'm talking to one right now."  I then proceeded to tell her that anybody who would call her names and make fun of her for something she likely had little to no control over wasn't worth her time.  It actually spoke volumes of the type of person they were.  If they couldn't get past the flaws that weren't even skin deep, how could they possibly ever touch somebody's heart?  Who would want somebody that toxic in the first place?

She actually smiled and looked at me this time and said thank you with more sincerity.  She had a very pretty and lovely smile. I took my things and left.

I see this all the time on discord, and on pretty much every channel that I'm on. I see people all the time that will talk about the flaws they have, they're too fat, too skinny, too tall, too short, too this or that or whatever... And I will admit it, I'm guilty of it too.

I think this is the first time I've actually officially admitted this, but I am not ugly. Despite the countless times I've said I am.  I know I'm not.

What you look like is nothing more than the cover of a book. Your flaws, your perceived flaws, are just perceptions.  Alot of them are probably based on what mainstream media tells you what the standards of beauty are.  Not every guy is 6'4" blonde with the perfect adonis body and not every woman is the equally tall runway model for victoria's secret. If anything, those are the outliers. Those are aberrations. Fuck, I'm not 6'4" and blonde, blue. i'm not even six foot!

I didn't pick my boyfriend because he's gorgeous.  If you ever saw him, you'd not think runway model or anything like that, because he's not. Is he attractive? Sure, he's very tall, very built, but he doesn't have the perfect face, or jaw line or hair or anything like that. His ears stick out to the side which I think are cute as hell, but he is not a model type. I didn't give him my heart because he won a beauty pageant. He won my heart because he was able to look beyond my flaws. He is always there for me, he is always encouraging, he is always supportive and calls me out when I'm wrong. He has never judged me or made fun of the thousands of issues I have, and he has always been a shoulder to cry on.  Beyond his skin, is a heart of solid gold, and that is what attracted me to him. I can find people that are admittedly more physically attractive than he is, but that would mean nothing, because what are they like beyond a pretty smile and perfect hair?

I think those of you that put yourselves down have one hell of an advantage over us pretty types. Honestly, I do. There's a line from an older flick called 'the broken hearts club' and an old man is consoling a younger man who hates what he looks like and wants to be the model type, and the old man says "not everybody gets to be tall and handsome and beautiful, some of us just have to settle for being average... we're the stronger ones." And I can already hear very certain and specific people I talk to on discord saying "but im not even average" to which I say, shut the fuck up.

I do not think I'm even average... not in my heart... The people that can't rely on looking pretty, are better people in my opinion, as a whole. They tend to be much more honest, work harder, less manipulative and tend be less of dicks to everybody else. They also appreciate love and attention and affection far more. Those who are 'just average' understand the pain of being an outcast, of not being the one asked to dance or chosen for prom king or queen.  And they know how to deal with life better.  They don't get to just skate by because people like how they look.  Studies have shown, the more attractive you are, the easier life seems to be for you.

I've been around plenty of pretty people.  Especially now. And they are some of the most miserable people I have ever met.  They are unbelievably shallow and alot of them are... well they're fucking dumb as posts. I'm not the smartest person on the planet, nor the most educated, but compared to some of these people, I'm bill fuckin nye!

It breeds a type of entitlement that's frankly sickening. And I'm speaking in general here, but I never see that with people that are just normal people. The guy that goes to work 8-5 mon-fri. The dude that has a little bit of a belly on him, the guy that's balding or the one that's too short, or tall and lanky and goofy.  Those are the best people because they're people.  Likewise with women, it's the same thing. Give me average looking any day, because at least then I don't have to hack my way through the jungle of ego.

I see alot of you just speak of yourselves in the negative, and you're wrong.  But I also don't see you breaking down and have your worlds come crashing down either because you weren't chosen for this weeks fashion show. I see you laugh, and live and play and joke and game together and just be you.

Do I have friends that are attractive, of course I do.  But I can promise you those are the minority.  The bulk of my friends are nerds, the gamers, the ones that will spend 6 hours in a day in their parents' basement pretending to be an elf while rolling dice and drinking an obscene amount of mountain dew. Alot of my friends are skaters, most of whom are skinny as rails and haven't had a haircut in years and wear just whatever happened to smell reasonably clean that day.  One of my besties is a woman who is a heavier person, and one of the best cooks I know and she has the same sense of humor I do and we get along amazingly well. We could be siblings except that we don't fight.

Normal people are awesome.  And just because the scale says your too big, or society says you aren't good enough for calvin klein, or the comb isn't necessary anymore or whatever your perceived flaw is... who fucking cares? If the person you want to be with cares, then that should tell you everything you need to know about them.  If you're chasing somebody and they won't give you the time of day, stop... you're worth more than appearing to be desperate, and I hate to say this, it is a game amongst quite a few of the "attractive" guys i know to string "ugly" girls along just to fuck with them.  Don't let that happen, you're way better than that and you deserve way better.

Normal people are the best because you're just you.  And I promise, that's what I value most about you. It's never a facade or a game.  It's just you.

I had a caramel frappe the other day...it was excellent.

Maybe it's one of those things where maybe the grass isn't greenest anywhere. Maybe there are downsides to being attractive...I'm sure there's a lot of pressure to maintain it, and I imagine it really is crushing when something happens that makes you wonder if you've still got it. Then there's aging...beauty fades, as they say. But it's also been proven that attractive people are treated better, from getting help when they ask for it to even being acquitted at court. I think there are more opportunities for people that are seen as attractive, and I think it's easier for them to get through in life. I remember listening to a podcast where they were talking with this woman who used diet pills to lose weight, and one of the things she mentioned is that she got away with lots of stuff that she wouldn't have been able to if she were still bigger. For example, almost without fail the men working at deli counters would let her take things for free if she pretended like she forgot her purse/money.

For me personally, it's not even really about that though. Sometimes I just want to feel desired, and it's a rare thing to feel. I'm definitely not going to get that from most of the gay community that mostly goes for younger twinks and muscles. Outside of the few people that are into big guys I don't think I've ever been called hot or anything...sometimes I just want to feel desired. If it were easier to be, I don't think I'd care at all. And usually it doesn't bother me at all, but sometimes it kinda sucks thinking what a struggle it is for someone like me to find that. I really don't think I'm ugly, but I know I'm not what the vast majority of people are going to find hot.

Looks really shouldn't matter...but sometimes you just can't help wanting to look hot for people.

Some of the things I have to go through can be a bit of a pain in the ass.  It gets really old, really fast, being treated like a piece of meat. I get hit on all the time, and alot of the time I just want to be left alone. I can't tell you the number of times I've picked up the ticket at a restaurant and there was the server's phone number on it. And the getting free stuff all the time, that happens too. Like for no reason either.  I could be buying a cup of coffee and they'll just tell me it's on the house or whatever. It's not really necessary and it's not exactly fair to the next person.  Just because I look cute means I get things free?  That's not kewl.

Getting hit on all the time... like sometimes the girl (usually) hitting on me gets really aggressive about it.  I can tell them I'm with somebody and they'll argue with me and say that they'll treat me better or whatever. How the hell would they know?  They have no idea how I'm being treated or how happy I am with the person I'm with.  Or if I tell them I'm gay, "Are you sure? How do you know? Have you ever tried it with a woman? I bet I can change you..." and on and on and on.

And I don't want to complain about it, I know I'm blessed, but at the same time, it's not all rainbows and butterflies being attractive. I often don't know who actually cares about me or wants to know me, or who just wants to get my pants off and get me into bed. And the gay community is by far THE WORST about it.  As a whole, the gay community is incredibly toxic and elitist.  You're 100% right though, all they care about is looks and money, and if you don't have looks, you damn well better have alot of money or else they'll treat you like trash, or just ignore you at best.

I had a gay guy hitting on me once and I told him no thanks, I have a boyfriend.  And the dude kept trying, telling me that we could keep it secret, and that it would just be a one time thing and so on and so on and so on. This fucker just would not take no for an answer.  After his non stop bullshit I finally snapped and told him to fucking stop... then he said I was a stuck up faggot for turning him down and that I'd come crawling back to him and he'd kick me to the curb for treating him like that...

treating him? 

Gay people are one of the biggest reasons I don't go clubbing or anything like that.  And I am gay!!!

As for maintaining my appearance, I can't say there's any pressure to keep it. I just do.  I work out because I want to. I dress the way I do because I choose to. I choose not to look like a slob, I choose to maintain my hygiene and all that. But I guess the way it seems, is that there's almost like expectations of me. I guess? He's tall and hot and built, he must be really good at sports.  I fucking suck at them. I bet he's really smart. I'm really not, I'm average and I'm poorly educated at that.  And it seems like I'm never allowed to have a bad day. I should always be super friendly and super approachable and kind and smiling and all that happy bullshit I generally am not.

I dunno. I'm bitching.  But I agree.  Looks shouldn't mean anything, but they do. And it is not fair.

Sadly you're not the first person I've heard such a story from, where guys want to bed you and then turn on you when you push back on it. It's like the gay community (or at least the male component of it) is so fixated on sex. For the most part I'm treated indifferently or worse when it comes to local buys, but in the rare case that somebody finds me decently attractive without fail they start pressuring me to hookup. Like, even when I tell them I don't do hookups with people I don't really know, they usually take that to mean that by the next day I should know them enough.

I know others have had better experiences with guys in their local areas, so I think part of it is just where I live. It's a very backwards area, and there aren't many people out there, so I guess I can understand when you find someone that does it for you being like a kid in a candy store, lol. But it doesn't really make me feel desired in the right way either. I mean, sure, there's plenty of guys I know that I'd love to fool around with, but I don't make it the basis of every interaction I have with them.

Sometimes I just think for some guys being into other guys goes no further than how it makes their dicks feel.

Especially for the younger guys. It seems like guys around my age, that is all they think about.  And the community is uber cliquey

This should be pretty quick, but I think it's important. I was watching Tiktok videos today and I saw one that kinda struck a chord with me.  It was talking about those people that are always there for us when we need a shoulder to cry on or somebody to listen.  Those people that make the world seems just a little bit brighter.  I know I've got a number of them in my life, and I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for them.  They for real saved my life. More than once. They put up with alot of bullshit and stuff for us.  They sacrifice alot for us.  There is nothing that is forcing them to be there when we need them, they simply choose to be because in their hearts, somewhere, they think we are worth the effort.

How often do we appreciate them? How often are we there when THEY need somebody?

When they dry our tears, hold us when we are hurt, listen to our pain, they are taking on alot of weight.  They are taking in all that pain and suffering we are letting go on them.  That's gotta be one hell of a burden.  It seems like they go almost unappreciated.  It's like wow, you were here for me and now that im better, i just go about my life and sort of forget what you did.  Those small acts of kindness are not so small.  They are huge when they happen.

Please, if you're somebody who's had that person in your life that was there for you in your worst hours, let them know how much it meant.  Let them know how much it helped, and listen to them.  They might be hurting to.