Where to go from here.

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Alright boys. I'm gonna lay some truth on you that you're not gonna like. Tough shit, fuck your feelings.

You fucked up. You fucked up big. Don't get me wrong, you weren't exactly winning it lately anyway, but here we are now, and sheeeeeit, son.

And you can't even rely on your President to protect you. He's cucked. He'd have never given even that wishy-washy wannabe-condemnation from the other day, let alone the reluctant one today, if he didn't feel the knife at his throat.

He's drowning, and he'll keep climbing on your backs to stay above water. He used you when it was useful, and throws you away when you're not. Just like Milo, just like Cernovich, and just like you're gonna find Spencer and Heimbach and so many others are gonna do if you stick around. They keep you around because you give them money, attention, and power, but they're not strong, good, or loyal men. You think they get you, or will get you things you want, in ways that the normies don't. But most of them are just wannabe-normies that realized sooner than you did how to lie to you to get cash and prizes.

Sucks. I get that you'd rather not think about it. But fuck. Your. Feelings. Or they'll fuck you. You gonna keep taking the blue pills that the wannabes here try to feed you, or you gonna man up and redpill yourself about yourself and the shitfest you're kneedeep in now?

There's a few ways out.

As always, you can kill yourself. I wouldn't suggest it, but lots of people choose to exit stage left rather than find a way through, or let others do it for them. Maybe even a few people will miss you, though let's be real: most folks in *these* parts don't care about you except to make themselves feel strong. They'll mock you, and forget about you.

You can walk away. I'm not saying you gotta be a normie, though you might want to practice at passing better. But you can just fucking walk, most of you. Even now.