Saw C– leaving with some man on Valentine’s Day. Then, later heard them fucking; then, he left at the same time as me, early in the morning! REJECTED! (Me not him.) Feels bad. It makes me feel worthless, in fact. I am a piece of garbage. She’s not interested in me. No woman is. They’re just not interested. How did I ever manage to score a woman—any of those times I did? I fooled them, perhaps. Now I’m damaged goods. There’s no hope for me. I can’t be with anyone. I’m a pathetic loser. I will never be happy. I’m broken.
LATER—Feels like a punishment to be sent home early. And without my dinner!
Try to put yourself in the mind of a woman. They want to not waste their time—and they want to feel safe. They feel safe by knowing that you are a part of a network—and knowing that they are part of your network.
For Lent, I have given up. I’m not supposed to be trying. Satan tempts me at every turn. There are demons everywhere.
This place (Isle de Garde) is big, powerful, French, and quality. I would hold it up as a gold standard—well, I would if I were an ambassador of Québec. There are couples everywhere—it’s all I see—like the whole world is people fucking—everyone but me!
Women want to know all of these things about men—but all of these things are not me. All these things they want are not things I have to offer. I’m not fit—I don’t have what it takes—I’m pond scum—I deserve to be alone…
I have given up for Lent. I have given up. Failure. Bad news comes in threes: I”m still waiting for the curb stomp. Do not write a letter to E–. It’s impossible to justify.
How did I become such an incel? I was always this way, and it’s only chance that has led me to taste the non-incel life. Pure chance—this is the life that I am led to. That I am meant for.
Do not compromise your values for this bullshit. Never had to in the past. Look at me through a woman’s eyes: he’s at a bar, so he has at least some money. He’s at this bar, so he has some taste…but he’s alone, so he has no friends, or he’s a loner; and he’s writing in a notebook rather than looking at his phone. This is the extent of his plan. No plans—no friends—loser! Sad, pathetic loser.
When I look around—it’s just happy people enjoying each other’s company. All of them seem rapt. I have never been in such a situation. Is it true that this writing is a substitute for companionship? It is true that I did not write so much when I was in a relationship—but I also didn’t have the clarity of purpose.
But—I also didn’t have the emotional motivation. This is part of God’s plan. I must suffer before I can become who I am. I will go through this phase of extreme emotional motivation—then, I will come out the other side a seasoned pro—then, I will be ready to love. That means I need to finish this cycle of negative thinking.