Welcome back to another episode of Blauheim Bitches and Whines About His Life, Episode 1 out of 9583828. Today, I was out to lunch with my old man (in more ways than one), and I once told him how weird my life feels. I share seemingly no sense of relation or commonality with most of my own coevals in many regards, from personal philosophy to interests. The only people who I really speak to in real life are family members (mostly my dad, who I consider my best friend). I'd say most of this is because I am a spitting image of them. They were those I was raised with, who molded my personhood. There was a time where I called myself misanthropic, and at that time I truly regarded the human species to be generally evil. Looking back on these insignificant, pissant ideas harbored in some teenage mind diseased by social isolation, truancy and literal psychosis makes me recoil in pure unbridled disappointment and embarrassment. To paint all of humankind with one brush, a species of over 8 billion people (at this point) is irrational and fallacious. Why'd I harbor a legitimate hatred toward them? The world may never know... Despite me sharing nothing in common with "NORPs", "normalfags", "normies", and whatever other random name internet people use to talk about them, I frankly have no hatred for them. Yes, even when they're their normal, annoying normalfag selves. I can live my life just fine without them, and they're evidently living fine without me. To break this unspoken and unsigned truce would be a horrible mistake that I'll have to bear before God, so leaving them alone is a good decision, I'd say. My lack of hatred towards them discounts my lower self which definitely feels great disgust towards them. To further explain, my mind harbors no hatred towards them, but my more visceral nature does. The way they act, the way they speak, their dances and their lingo, it grates at me subconsciously. It is often when I roam my university's halls, that I see girls doing a TikTok dance or a group of people talking amongst themselves about things I have no care for that I realize how far I am from them. Not superior nor inferior, simply different. And with that thought comes another: "Wouldn't it be fun to kill them?" I really don't mean to sound edgy, but I entertain this thought for a while. Joyfully and within the confines of my own mind, I fantasize about violently dispatching them. This isn't to say I'm a remorseless sociopath as I surely would feel guilty afterward. I have no clue where this hatred comes from, but if I had to guess, it's from being bullied as a young child. Sometimes, I do have a legitimate reason to harbor some feelings of disgust towards them. Whenever my gaze falls on someone vaping in the middle of class, or leaving trash out without disposing of it, or even someone trying to get me to cheat them, it truly angers me. It's insignificances like this that make me absolutely livid. It seems decorum and taste is a concept as foreign to them as, say, the names of colors are to the Pirahã of Brazil. Thank you for reading this retarded rant, El Psy Kongroo.