Thoughts about the people that have Opposed me

“To all the friends I used to have, I miss my past;
but the rest of you assholes can kiss my ass!”

It’s funny how I’ve been looked at over the years. From as far back as i can remember, whenever I held a certain belief, there was one group, at every turn, that would say I was wrong. Not that the belief was, but I was wrong, that I was the evil one. I’ve been called an asshole, a dick, an idiot, a weakling, a faggot, a bitch, a racist, a misogynist, a bigot, a sexist pig, and many other names. Probably the most glaring one I’ve been called was when a loved one I held dear called me a monster. To be fair, I’ve also been called very nice things by loved one’s. But right now, it’s funny how many thing’s I’ve been called in anger. Most notably, “A Monster.”

It’s funny to me, because That’s exactly what I have become. It’s funny because the reason I am viewed that way is that I don’t see things the way you do, through the filters of fantasy you wear. I have worked so very hard to find the truth about everything I could, and now I have made so much progress that, looking back just 10 years ago, I hardly recognize myself. And I imagine, just from the responses i get from you guys here, you don’t recognize me either. And I believe, for many of you, it’s because you still hold on to many of the beliefs I let go of, you still have the same strings attached to you I cut long ago. And it is those beliefs, those strings, the fantasies you live in, the language you let control you, that makes me seem so, well, evil to you.

So when I speak what I believe, when I present facts, when I try to bring reason, often I am met with resistance. And that resistance is because what I present threatens the world you live in, the very beliefs you hold dear, and may well keep you going through the day. Sometimes the opposition is with facts, which I welcome; contrary to popular belief, I like to be proven wrong, because that helps me grow. But most of the opposition is designed to basically shut me up, through personal attacks, through subversive language, through social pressure and ostracization, threats of physical violence, you name it. And the main reason for this, I believe, is because what I am challenging many times doesn’t have a rational defense; it attacks a fantasy you have, a illusory belief, that often you have shaped your entire life around. Whether through old school religion, a social construct, or personal prejudice, I often threaten your personal way of life. And so I am branded a monster.

I embrace it.

What I have come to realize is that, for many of you, you live in fantasy. To use the analogy that every SJW and hipster has overworn, you’re all in the Matrix. And I represent the real world, the reality to your fantasy. You say you can fly like Superman, I remind you of gravity. You try to attack me with a capoiera kick and fireball thrown from your hands, I stand and laugh, before kicking your ribcage into your heart and slicing your jugular open. You call me a racist, thinking that’s enough to shut me down, and I come at you with a thousand bricks and a hammer. To your world, built with cobwebs of fantasy, I bring the fire of truth, and so I am your greatest threat. I am your monster. And the funny thing is that, since I can remember, I have been called some variation of that. I’m not scared of being called a monster anymore, in fact, when that name is used, that means I’m hitting my target.

So thank you, I guess, to everyone of you, who called me every name you could find. You depressed me at times, you made me feel low, you hurt me, made me want to die even. But you gave me the resistance, the tolerance to keep going on in spite of the arrows shot in my direction. Thanks for all of the attacks, because you have now made me near unstoppable. Call me whatever you want. Attack me with whatever you like, threaten me with your greatest weapons, because I will step through them and still touch you.

To everyone that kicked me when I was down, who opposed me at every step, thank you. You gave me the weapons I needed to destroy you. You made your own personal monster. And though I am thankful for the weapons you gave me, I will feel no remorse in using them. I know many of you I have and will oppose and take down will be friends. You will even be family, blood related or not. I loved you all, and I may lose you all, but I can no longer hold back. You’ve done enough damage, to me and to this society. And now I see your fantasy, and I am coming with the fire of truth. I am coming, and you will fall. I will sleep soundly upon your ashes

For I have no guilt.

There will be. No. Sympathy.

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