Che altro aggiungere? E' uno sfogo, ma quanti di voi si sono sentiti allo stesso modo? RIfletteteci!
Odio le donne -- parlo di quelle che conosco perché le frequento o le ho frequentate -- ragazze tra i sedici e i trent'anni, nell'arco di età che si situa dopo che la vita ha fatto loro comprendere con quali armi micidiali possano tenerci in pugno e prima che, in un modo o nell'altro, si ritrovino vittime di se stesse. Le «odio» perché esistono; può sembrare scarno, come motivo, ed in effetti lo sarebbe, se non fosse completato dal resto: esistiamo anche noi.
« Le vedi camminare insieme... » said the song, and is the worst situation, because when you gather their power becomes deadly, their treachery beyond all limits, and my hatred reaches stellar heights. Women are incapable of uncertainties alone, at least for everything related to the interaction with men, but find yourself in a group (and two is too much when it comes to "their") gives them an attitude even euphoric, in the irritating security.
hate women, and their habit to judge, never have doubts about themselves, I hate the way they always expect something from us, eternal jesters, servants and confidants, always present and always imperfect, to be considered in law to perform the humiliating series of "tests" that we undergo when we know them, and I hate the way they draw conclusions, always with that infallible judges, believe they capture the essence of our souls than four crap that they force us to say that the approach contains the right amount of "sympathy" that they, short-sighted and superficial, require any first impression. I hate them because they love the cynics, those who have no weaknesses, and above all without apparent interest in them. I hate them because they love certain people because they always want to have the impression that they were acting, as if the will of the non contasse un cazzo. Le odio, perché credono che le frasi idiote e preconfezionate dei primi discorsi siano sufficienti a fare «conoscere» le persone (e, si sa, che la danno solo se ci si conosce...).
Le odio , perché hanno ossessioni mostruose, e non le confessano mai; un po' perché non ne hanno il coraggio (di fronte a se stesse, naturalmente, perché del nostro giudizio, ai nostri giudici, non interessa granché), un po' perché amano mantenere tutti i loro privilegi, ivi compreso quello di potersi fingere schifate venendo a conoscenza delle nostre. Le odio, perché se a letto qualcosa non funziona, non si domandano mai se è stato il loro modo di farlo that ruined everything (and sometimes pieces of wood are inert, waiting, obscene prey to convulsions, the orgasm that we send them nicely without asking questions - because we no longer think they have the right to extend), while we are great paranoia.
abhor their victimization. There were enslaved, in revenge for centuries of oppression, I would have understood. But they have chosen the way most vile: their domination is clear for the past thirty years, but never stop complaining, because we will enjoy more in control by pretending to be submissive. They are prey to manic obsessions hygienic food-health-conscious from an early age (which means, in particular, who are disgusted by anything that is not their crap), hysterical and erratic, unreliable and generally unbearable, and yet they do nothing but criticize our way of life, thereby charging more for the sins of our stereotypes.
fear and disgust more than anything else in the world by their inconsistency , the way you have to change radically in the beating of butterfly wings, the way they know how to turn into monsters and wicked cool (in able to hit with words than with any other weapon, because their victimhood justifies any malice in their eyes verbal and moral) to "punish" for our sins (they did at least to defend themselves, but no, they do it because we deserve punishment). I destroyed their ability to forget to turn the page as if nothing had happened, cancellation and replacement in less than no time with another puppet, so they can begin to dispense the honey that will allow them to do more harm in the end.
their maternalism horrifies me, the way they'll never take seriously, always treating us like children, capricious or naive as appropriate, to believe that the right to be pissed off just their own, while when we are doing at best look at us with a kindly smile and a thought in my head (' can not understand ... ') And at worst he was infuriated, shocked to our critical minimum. The hate, because they have no mercy, and we need the worst-face with white smile, a heart full of bad faith, and sharp weapons to defend themselves by attacking at the first protest. I hate the look with which state that each of our interests is childish, while their crap (which I do not quote out of pity, but I could start talking about the pseudo-cultural, continuing with the pseudo-sports and end with the pseudo-sexual-extensional ) are inalienable and incriticabile.
I hate their fear of being "bad" , which is leading to the worst hypocrisies, the worst nonsense, before admitting the truth, when it puts them in a bad light. I hate them because we spend years trying to build an unbreakable bond, selling off cheaply important parts of us, only to find, plus they are almost always without admitting it, we pulled a slight edge, always ready to crack. I hate them because they know that wire tends to look with no fear, and while we die of terror, helpless in the face of the risk that breaks down their best advantage dell'evenienza to torture.
I hate the way they look slaves, inept and docile, they can dominate, and on which to vent their frustration intimate, eternally resulting from their smallness, they feel, but always with Stoner for the image of perfection that we paint on them. I hate them, precisely because we, artists, fans and devotees dedicate their lives to fill their world, we slaughtered each other for one of them, and throw away half of his life, first try, then give then try to keep, and then accuse inevitably feel that they gave us.
I hate them because they need us as we need them (sometimes more, even), but they are so accustomed to be desired (and we hate that we can not refrain from wish), that it hardly realize more, and dream of a world where no more the 'noise', going as far as to conceal from themselves that the end of men seeking women would be the end of the women (and not talking about the biological mechanism of bees and flowers, here but the psychological implications ...).
I hate them, finally, why are not all like that, but those who are (that sonocomunque majority) are so shit, that lead me to forget that there are others, and that, together, strontium and less bitches (let's call them "the acceptable ...") at the end, the love ...
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