Nevolis

Chapter 1

And here I was, watching my own porn, feeling the snow soaking up my blood and the dead earth mercilessly swallowing the remains of me.

People say that before you die, you will remember people you love and happy moments, as if you will feel warm and cozy from everything you have experienced. But that's not what I felt. I felt hatred and anger. There was not a single thought in my head like "my life was incredible, and now I accept the fact that I'm going to die in the snow". All that was on my mind was how I wanted to destroy this world, everything and everyone. But the first thing I would exterminate would be them... I really don't understand. We are all human beings, men and women. We have a human brain, a human body, emotions, but why are we so different? I feel like all men are interested in is s*x and m**********n.

Once, I was even reading a book by a popular author, and there I saw the following sentence: "Women have periods, and men have m**********n. We all feel the same way. Women cannot exist without menstruation, and men cannot exist without masturbation." Oh yeah, what a great comparison. m**********n on pixels from Japanese authors is apparently vital. Not that I'm against m**********n, but comparing the physiological process of women and m**********n to all living and non-living things is not a very apt comparison. And how can you even do it on a pixel? Can painted girls really turn someone on? It's just disgusting. This is one of the reasons why I don't trust men. In most cases, when women find out that their partner is doing this on other women, men will fall into three types. The first type is: "but I'm a man, it's my physical needs, it's not cheating at all...". The second type will usually listen to you and say something like "I understand. I won't do it anymore". But as we know, they will continue to do it, but now more covertly. And the third type, most likely the extinct type, are those who will actually stop m**********g to naked women during a relationship. The scariest thing of all is that we will never know if he really stopped doing it or if he still continues.

Men are really strange creatures. Although, I believe, or hope, that there are still men on earth who will respect their partner's requests. What drives men in general? Why do some of them send photos of their "pistruchniks" to strange women or even children? I will never understand this.

3 years ago

I was sitting at the bar, wrapping my cold fingers around a glass of Dry Martini. There was something symbolic in the drink's slight bitterness-a mixture of freedom and unusual loneliness. It was only my second day in the country I had dreamed of all my life.

It was the start of my new life - an independent one, without other people's advice or judgment. A beginning full of ambition and bold dreams. At the bar, I still believed that I could change the world. Laughter and sunshine danced in the air, and it seemed that everything - from people to the sky - conspired in my favor. I was sure then that my presence would make a difference.

There were still two days left before I started my new job. Two days of freedom that I could spend exploring the city, getting to know the places and people that now surrounded me. Stepping outside, I breathed in the cool air - it was fresh, as if it was cleansing me of everything unnecessary.

It was the middle of winter, and I couldn't help but smile as I felt its special atmosphere. Winter has always been my favorite season. Why is it? It's hard to say. Perhaps it was the late dawns that allowed me to lie in bed a little longer before insomnia turned the night into another restless memory. Or it was the evenings with hot cocoa and favorite movies that warmed me better than a blanket. Maybe it was just her quiet magic.

But now I had to forget about it. I looked down at the road in front of me and smiled slyly as I thought: "There are only two things I need right now-money and pleasure." The winter sun, pale but stubborn, warmed my head as if it agreed with me.

I returned to my new "home". It wasn't really a house, but rather a small room with everything in it, a kitchen, shower, toilet, and bed, but despite these conditions, I was still happy to be here and now. After all, I had been given this place for almost nothing, so I had to appreciate it.

Tired and drained from the alcohol, I closed my eyes, feeling my heavy eyelids finally find peace. All the thoughts that had been swirling around in my head gradually drifted away, and for the first time in 7 months, I was able to leave them behind.