Still fully acclimating to the Red Pill, I realized today that there are a lot of things – not just women – that I’ve been trying to like for a very long time because I’m “supposed to like” them.
This hit me today walking around my childhood home. Which is Miami, Florida. The county I live in has increased in size perhaps four or five or six times since I was a child. It also switched languages (from English to Spanish), ethnicity, and everything else. The downtown is huge, and the area I live in has completely and totally changed. It used to be very green and low-key and artistic when I was a child (it started as rich and exclusive, then hit hard times). It has bounced back from the artsy and down-at-heel little village it was when I was a kid and is now skyscrapers for vacationers and absentee owners. I returned three years ago, and had been gone for twenty years with no visits. Single mom, bats~~~ crazy, all that good stuff.
For the past three years I’ve been trying to like this place, and have been walking around melancholy as Hell because I just couldn’t make myself like it. Most of the places I liked are long, long gone. The little private school I went to – and went to day camp at from childhood until junior high – has turned into a built-up and fantastically expensive school probably not as good, but much better marketed and much larger. This school had been important to me. I liked the education, and some of the students. The town center is all built up and pricey. On and on. Everything has changed, switched cultures, and is different. None of my friends from back in the day still live here. Literally none. (Obviously some acquaintances still do, but whatever).
I realized today that I’ve been trying to like this place because I’m “supposed to like it”. Because once upon a time, it was my home. Quite literally – not kidding, South Florida has been gentrified and developed to Hades – 60-70% of the buildings are simply gone, replaced with bigger things, all the open spaces have been built on, and what’s left has been redone and redone and redone.
I don’t actually like it. There’s been this weird disconnect, this terrifying, dissociative feeling for the past three years because I’ve been trying to like it, but it’s become all the things I hate. I’ve been driving myself crazy because I’ve believed, in my heart, that I was really supposed to like this place NOW because I liked it, literally, thirty years ago.
The place I liked is long, long gone. It doesn’t exist any more. I am like a Dresden resident after the war. My city is gone. Walking around tonight, I kept realizing that. I’d take my glasses of and just look at the unfocussed lights, put them back on, and realize “if I had never been here before, this street would not appeal to me” “this is not a place I would choose to live” “this is not, to me, a handsome street” “it’s too crowded for me, too many tall buildings for me”. It was exceedingly unnerving (hello Red Pill), but I think good in the long run.
Where I don’t quite want my mind to go just yet, as this evening’s walk was enough of a shock, is that I am quite certain that a lot of other things I’ve been trying to like because I’m supposed to like them for whatever reason . . . I don’t like and do not want. For me the Red Pill started with women, which I kept trying to like because sooooulllmateunicorn and I’m supposed to want this, even though I’ve rarely enjoyed this. Women were always, after the brief limerence phase, just f~~~ing awful, no matter how hard I tried to tell myself otherwise.
Thoughts? My sense is I’m not the only one, post-Red Pill, to realize “f~~~, I actually hate this, why have I been doing this?”.
"You can either love women, or understand women. You can't do both. Because once you understand women, you realize that there is really nothing to love."
Won'tGetFooledAgain 4 years, 2 months ago.
