Crematoryy
Autophagic Loneliness
- Feb 12, 2025
- 286
I just finished my 7-hour shift as a freelance delivery driver, and I admit I received minimally satisfactory pay. But I wonder what the point is of all this effort if I have no one to love; if I am not loved, known, or embraced by anyone. I'm tired of growing old alone. I feel like this decade of my twenties is my last chance to meet another person. To be loved, one needs to be born into a good house or apartment, with a middle-class family income and a decent appearance. Because I was born underprivileged, I am condemned to the ostracism of social invisibility. I long to be loved, but this pain will never cease within me.
The world is terribly mistaken in tacitly believing that I will accept the existence imposed upon me. If there is no emotional life for me, there will be none for anyone else. While I toil in silence, the world rejoices in its sexual lust. While they're having sex, I indulge in excessive daydreaming, what it would be like to receive the simplest, unsuspecting human touch. All this cruelty will lead to a revolt, and finally the world will find the monster it itself created.
The world is terribly mistaken in tacitly believing that I will accept the existence imposed upon me. If there is no emotional life for me, there will be none for anyone else. While I toil in silence, the world rejoices in its sexual lust. While they're having sex, I indulge in excessive daydreaming, what it would be like to receive the simplest, unsuspecting human touch. All this cruelty will lead to a revolt, and finally the world will find the monster it itself created.
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