I have changed

Most humans are evil

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I have recently come across a blog post from a woman who was grieving the loss of her unborn baby, conceived via IVF. In her essay, she detailed her worries over the increasing cost of fertility treatments, her anger at the judgment of her religious environment — people who kept pressuring her to “just get pregnant already,” unaware of her struggles with infertility — her secret hopes and dreams when the pregnancy tests turned positive, and the subsequent heartbreak when a routine doctor’s appointment showed no heartbeat.

I have been a reader of her essays for years because I consider her a talented author and we share many common interests, so I felt the need to write something that could possibly help her, but I couldn’t come up with anything of substance. In the end, I left a comment saying “I am sorry for your loss.” She thanked me and responded that she was grateful I had not spammed her with the usual platitudes — that people had told her that “her baby is in heaven” (she is not religious), “miscarriages happen to many pregnant women” (a comment that minimizes her pain and dismisses the importance of the loss), and “you will have a healthy baby soon” (which essentially means it’s time to stop thinking about the dead one that is floating in the hospital’s medical waste and stop bothering the world with your grief).

This incident made me realize that in my almost three years on the cursed platform of Substack, I cannot recall a single instance where I have been given the same grace when it came to any of my thoughts or problems. Which confirms my belief that most humans are inherently selfish and evil, either actively or passively.

Ironically, I have an older blog post called “80% of humans are evil” which happens to be one of the most debated essays I have ever shared online. Hordes of supposedly well-meaning readers rushed to inform me that “no, it’s not like that, there are plenty of empathetic people in this world” and when that failed to convince me, they pulled out the victim-blaming card: those humans do exist out there, Vixen, and if you cannot find them, the problem must be in you.

I never claimed to have all the answers. I am undeniably someone with many personal flaws and my blog isn’t the Holy Grail of truthful information about the sex industry., which makes me essentially an unreliable narrator. That being said, we have reached a point where I lost my passion for writing because I got fed up with presenting a watered-down version of my thoughts in order to be politically correct and placate potential readers, as well as paid and free subscribers. Now that I am back, things will have to change.

I identify as a misanthrope when it comes to 80% of humans, even though I am willing to work hard to help the remaining 20%.

Do you realize that you don’t have to immediately gaslight someone every time their perception of the world doesn’t agree with yours? The truth is that I hate many people so much that I would feel genuinely happy if I heard that a sudden calamity had befallen them. So what? I am not going to act on my feelings and I am not even talking about those feelings with the people in question or anyone who knows them. Why am I not allowed to share them on my own personal blog, without some random Tom, Dick and Harry from Jerkwater Heights jumping in to inform me that the world is a great place? According to you, I am not even allowed to hate people who sexually abused me, stalked me, physically assaulted me, stole my money and laughed when I was literally on my deathbed, even though I have no other place to anonymously process these traumatic events (except a physical diary), and you have several options available to you: ignore me, block me, or publish an essay with your own opinions on your own blog. But you choose none of that.

The good news: I no longer need to ask for permission to have my ideas and beliefs.

The bad news: you will be blocked.

Why are so many people completely incapable of offering any kind of meaningful empathy in today’s dystopia? I used to read psychology books about social skills, and one author suggested asking the following question when someone is dealing with grief: “How can I better support you?”

No one has ever asked me that, because everyone already knows what’s best for me — especially my omniscient parents, who have been my handlers my entire life. Is this constant gaslighting a product of low IQ, neurodiversity, or just cowardice? That the thought of people like me — walking around silently enraged at their horrible lives — makes you uncomfortable?

And at the end of the day, what kind of response do you expect when you are breathing down my throat whispering “no, it’s not like that, there are plenty of good humans in this world”? Do you expect me to say “Oh wow, I didn’t know that, thanks for letting me know, I am no longer furious now”? I have met good people too during my horrible years on this planet. A handful of them. All overworked, poor, in chronic pain, and powerless.

I am not the same person I used to be when I first started this blog. I look back at my earliest essays with disgust and anger. I don’t care about making money here either. If someone likes what I offer and wants to become a paid subscriber, I will be grateful and thank them — that will never change — but will I hesitate to block stalkers, parasocial freaks, MGTOW know-it-all incels and flirty tinmen in white mules just because they pay me? Not even for a second.

Last but not least, I am also extremely angry at the many blogs of internet “sex workers” who use artistic photos — read: softcore pornography — to amass a horny following. I just came across a post from someone who wrote some nonsense no one cares about and strategically placed photos of her pretty pedicured feet in heels throughout it. Hundreds upon hundreds of likes. This is the world we live in, I guess.

Well, that was all for now. It did feel cathartic to share my thoughts after months of having to stay silent. What have you been up to?

Thank you for reading, Vixen