How come incels always talk about how women have it so easy

terrycrews said:
Christianity still has no answer to why God has cursed me to be born like this by the way
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yea the problem of evil is probably the biggest burden when it comes to Christianity
 
ironybruh said:
describe yourself using a bald man with glasses
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IMG_4799.png
 
My cognition resembles a bowl of saturated cereal, and the saline nasal spray renders the atmosphere reminiscent of soiled adhesive bandages. I possess an overwhelming urge to expel the contents of my mind; to regurgitate my thoughts. Regrettably, the canine is once again engaging in the act of licking the floor. I have been experiencing prolonged constipation for several months, rendering it impossible to attain a comfortable seated position, while my visual perception continues to fluctuate. Furthermore, I encounter difficulties with swallowing, and upon awakening, I am unable to perceive my arms. It is imperative that I maintain a state of mobility, as a peculiar tingling sensation envelops me, accompanied by auditory hallucinations. I find myself devoid of any authentic emotions, and nothing captivates my interest. I am compelled to masticate my sustenance symmetrically on both sides of my mouth, and I meticulously count my teeth using my tongue—twenty times in a clockwise direction and twenty counter-clockwise—until the endeavor induces a headache. When I slice an apple, the segments must be impeccably aligned in a fixed orientation; thereafter, I consume them in a numerical sequence, utilizing my entire cranial capacity to chew. I perceive voices emanating from an adjacent room, and if one of my ears is stimulated, I feel an absolute necessity for the contralateral ear to receive similar attention to achieve a sense of equilibrium. Should this balance be restored, I experience tranquility, as if the disarray had never occurred. Whenever I lift an object, the entire day becomes a mere forgone conclusion. Even a solitary crumb upon the carpet hinders my ability to concentrate on the television. While viewing a program such as CSI, I incessantly remind myself of the title I am observing. In retail environments, or any location with tiled flooring, I ensure to traverse each square without making contact with the lines. If I inadvertently step upon a line, paranoia ensues, compelling me to regress and commence the process anew. Each pixel must be counted; I maintain the clean condition of my mouse and harbor a strong aversion to iTunes. Individually, I pluck strands of hair from my scalp. When gazing into a mirror, I perceive only the image of a short, overweight twelve-year-old. There is an incessant need to visit the restroom, especially during solitary acts that yield no fulfillment, coupled with an obsession concerning chlorine. Upon establishing eye contact, I feel obliged to rotate my eyes in circular motions, subsequently bisecting these circles through a singular, precise linear movement. However, I invariably falter, necessitating repeated attempts until ocular discomfort ensues.
 
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