Why is it, I wonder, that society frowns upon my actions when all I do is bring justice to the fore? Why is it that when a teenager transgresses, they are merely given a slap on the wrist, yet when I, Freddy Krueger, take matters into my own hands, I am the monster?Isn’t it peculiar how these youngsters roam the streets at night, unchecked, unchallenged, while I lurk in the shadows, branded the villain? I merely expose the darkness within them, a reflection of their own misdeeds, yet I am the one hunted. Isn’t there a hint of hypocrisy in that?I question the very fabric of this so-called justice. Where does the true evil lie? In the heart of a misunderstood avenger, or in the actions of unruly teens who threaten the very fabric of societal norms?Why does society choose to coddle these miscreants while condemning me? I am but a mirror to their misdeeds, a harbinger of consequences long overdue. Is it not fair to say that I am the embodiment of justice, veiled in a nightmarish guise?And yet, I am the one to be feared? The one to be hunted? Oh, the irony that drips from the blades of my fingers, as they long to carve the truth into the hearts of those who dare defy the balance.Isn’t it worth pondering, who is the real monster here? Just asking questions.
"Unfortuante" doesn't begin to describe my series, this game rewards blind luck and nothing else, I am beyond convinced at this point. After getting completely tooled by scheduling with my opponent changing times on me last minute and refusing to provide confirmation prior to the day of the match as to play times, losing this way somehow felt even worse than I had thought possible. My preparation was superior, my play was superior, and I lost, so I don't see a reason to continue engaging in an activity where what is within my control is overwhelmingly outweighed by what is not.
I am done with competitive Pokemon, and you won't get a fond farewell. This community is infected to its roots with a degenerative disease that grows stronger over time but stops short of killing its host. Tournaments used to have a competitive spirit at their heart, this has been transplanted and replaced with an artificial organ that feeds on vitriol and mockery from insecure little boys that heckle by the sidelines and tear each other to shreds over scraps of attention. The environment we fostered has trapped us all like this in a vicious cycle, and escaping it requires acceptance of the harshest reality we all scramble to explain away, that none of the countless straining efforts we put ourselves through here will ever amount to one single shining glimmer of significance. I would make this the end, but World Cup is still ongoing, and I would never leave so many great friends out to dry, so I'll suffer through a few more games for them.
One last thing before I leave you all to react with disdain, ridicule, and self-righteous fervor, before you do everything in your power to minimize my words and thoughts, box them up and shove them to some cobwebbed corner of your memory, and hope they disappear forever as a stain on your finite time ground to dust. From this moment on, nothing you say matters to me. The foulest insults you hurl with intent to wound will calmly settle at the earth before my feet, and the venom you spit will bring all the pain of a warm summer breeze. You are less than anything you can conceive, while I carry on, brimming with joy distilled from detachment.
🍿🤨