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Pomidor Quixote
Daily Stormer
January 12, 2019
When women say they’re depressed they often mean bored. Unless they’re dried up, infertile, and childless. Those cases have enough reasons to be in pain.
This slut ticks all the boxes, and she recently wrote a letter to the Ask Polly advice column at The Cut:
I love my husband, and I think he’s the best person by far I’ve ever been involved with. I certainly never liked anyone enough to want to marry them before. He’s smart and kind and funny and handsome and he laughs at soooooo many of my jokes and we have great chemistry. He puts up with my obnoxious dogs and gets along with my friends. He has a good and admirable job. He tells me I’m smart and beautiful, and it seems like he means it.
But the entire time I’ve been with him, I’ve stayed a mess. I met him at a time when my life was fraying, and he was doing very badly as well (he was living with his mom), and I’ve just kept going down. I had a not-so-good but admirable job at the time I met him, which I later lost. Since then, I’ve drifted. I barely do anything these days. I take jobs and do them halfheartedly and then quit. In the time we’ve been together, I’ve tried antidepressants and therapy, but nothing has changed. In the time we’ve been together, he’s gone from being unemployed, living at his mom’s house, and doing way too many drugs to graduating from law school, staying off hard drugs, and landing his impressive job. He’s not a dick — he tries to suggest that I go back on antidepressants, look for work, whatever, but lately I’ve been feeling like maybe the thing that’s keeping my life fucked up is being in a relationship with him.
You may be thinking this whore is not making any sense, blaming her good husband for her being a useless piece of shit, but… she may be right.
I love him so much and I believe he loves me and that feels good, but I was better off in nearly every way when I was in unsatisfying relationships or single, even though my life was by no means perfect or even happy a lot of the time. I know if we divorced it would throw my life into serious chaos. We don’t have any savings. I’m not working, like I mentioned. My credit sucks. I have those bad dogs, which would make finding a place of my own even harder. I’m not getting any younger, and I’m definitely not getting any more dateable (I’m 38).
But I have to wonder if chaos is what I need, because nothing else — going to therapy, taking prescribed medication, writing in a goddamn journal, MICRODOSING lol — seems to be knocking me out of this sad, ghostlike existence. Writing it out sounds so bitchy, like I’m blaming him for my unhappiness, which I’m not. I just feel like, how can this relationship possibly be good for me when I feel so bad and function so little all the time? People always compare mental illness to cancer and other physical ailments, and when I think of it like that, I know he’s not necessarily causing my problems, but he’s also okay being married to someone who’s slowly dying and doesn’t seem capable of getting the medical attention necessary to treat it.
I don’t know why I’m like this. I don’t know why it feels safer to do less and less than to keep trying to get better, but I know I’ve created this situation where I can be with someone who will put up with that and make sure we have food and shelter. I have a lot of good friends who care about me and I know they know I’m struggling and I know I make it extremely difficult for anyone to help me because I just shut them out if they try to bring up things that make me uncomfortable. Maybe the reason I’ve behaved this way for so long is that the only friend who could ever tell me anything moved away shortly before my husband and I started dating.
She emphasized her age, saying she’s not getting any younger nor “more dateable,” which gives us a big hint. Notice she didn’t mention kids. What’s that they say about idle hands? Yeah, she’s freaking out. She knows her motherhood train has passed, forever gone. There’s nothing she can do to bring her youth back, she feels cheated out of it.
In her eyes, she probably blames her husband for not turning her into a mother. She talked about how her husband started from what she considers a pretty bad place and with time went up, not because she’s proud of him, but because she resents he wasn’t already in that high up place when they first started dated, because if he would have been up there where he is now, they’d have been able to care about things other than money, like having a family.
Children are expensive in modern ethos despite the fact that popping out kids nowadays in the West gives them more chances of survival than they had ever before, even if born in poverty. People are told to work on their careers and maybe have a kid in their late thirties after they’ve gathered enough shekels, but they still get married because the need to form a family is harder to suppress than the fertility of these whores. At least they’re not selling pills for it yet. Why would they, though? Women divorce-raping their husbands is actually good for the Jews, it imposes a ceiling for the success of white men. No matter what you’ve built, a whore can take it away anytime, anywhere, for whatever reason or no reason at all, practically at the press of a button.
We’re close to “instant divorce” smartphone apps.
She describes her existence as ghost-like, which is a pretty accurate way to describe childless women that are past their fertile years because they’re alive but haven’t fulfilled their purpose and they no longer have a way to fulfill it. They know they were born with a womb to use it, and they also know it’s too late for them.
They’re walking, rotting husks.
She hates her husband for putting up with her shitty self. She knows he should have made a better woman out of her. He should have brought up the good in her.
But he failed, and now she’s doomed to despair until her eyes shut for the last time.
