Icy Cold Judgement

I have occasionally attempted to look at things from the viewpoint of a woman. At least, attempted it. On the whole I find that when I do so, my cynicism and disgust with women goes through the roof.

I suspect it is in some manner psychologically damaging to me.

Trying to have empathy for someone who seems to be very much lacking empathy and is filled with a soul-sucking greed, expectations, neediness and complacency. Add to that incomprehension, naivety, and - once they reach the wall - varying degrees of horror depending upon how long they've been alone at the time. Older women become clingy and needy in my experience.

All of this is profoundly disturbing in a manner that I cannot convey.

I fully expect any girls reading this to totally deny this, by the way. Deny all you want girls - when you look into that cold black abyss within, it is my icy cold dead eyes that are looking back out and judging you.

I wonder if that is what these women crave: judgement. The judgement of a pitiless man who knows his own worth. The judgement of a man who looks at them and sees unflinchingly that they are a worthless wreck of a human being. The judgement of a man who, having determined their utter patheticness as a person, remorselessly uses them for the only thing that they actually are useful for in life: a mindless vehicle to sate his lusts upon.

I wonder if that is why women willingly submit to the abuser's embrace, the batterer's fists and feet, the debauchery of an orgy, the shame of pornography, the pain of whoredom, the debasement of a gangbanging, the defilement of being pissed and shit upon, the twisted pleasure of eating the same. All their inner pain disgorged into reality.

I know why women have such strong rationalising capabilities. Never mind that we in the Manosphere call it "the hamster" - that's a fucking joke in comparison to the bank-safe-door which holds back the sewage-laden tides of her inner self. She *needs* those inner protections to keep from collapsing into a self-loathing suicidal mess at the self-realisation of the foulness at her core.

Go ahead and deny it girls. Go ahead. I see it in the empty eyes of you sluts that I pick up and fuck on the first date. I feel it in the orgasms you have before I ejaculate into your ass. I hear it as your voice hoarsely cries out at the pleasure of multiple orgasms. I touch it on your quivering skin as you attempt to recapture your breath after orgasms so intense that you are nearly unconscious. I smell it in the sweat dappling your entire body as you curl up with your head on my chest.

It is no wonder that one in four American women are medicated by some form of antidepressant. You need that sludge to function at all. Never mind attempting to perform so well at the supposed high-flying career that you purport to embrace.

I've looked deep into your pit, woman. I've seen your dirt. Would you like me to spit on you - to begin with.

The Red Pill, so dark with poison that it's practically black - like the cold black abyss in a woman's soul.