The Selfish Manual

The Selfish Manual

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Apr 30, 2025
Come closer, you who's crawling through this sewer called the world, and listen to the voice of an old man who's seen too much - mind boiling like an engine hooked on black-label pills and truths no one wants to swallow. This is The Selfish Man's Manual, scribbled by someone who's danced with the dark and came back with scars. It's the kick you need to wake up in a game where only those who put themselves first make it out alive. Altruism? Just sweet talk for those who still believe kindness pays the bills. Here, the truth comes raw - laced with sarcasm and just the right amount of black humor. The selfish man is the bastard who thinks he's king, even while shaking inside. A guy who tapes his self-esteem back together and struts like he's bulletproof. In the family, he grabs the best chair and the last beer, grinning while others chew on resentment. At work, he's the wolf who steals your idea with a pat on the back, already dreaming of a podium you'll never reach. He's learned that if you don't crown yourself, the world tramples you. He might look pathetic in his paper crown and cracked mirror, but there's a kind of bravery there - the guts to choose himself. This book is more than a dirty mirror. It's a survival manual for your emotional battlefield - to teach you how to say "no" without guilt, guard your time like gold, and cut ties with those who drain you. But don't get it twisted: selfishness comes with a price. There's loneliness, side-eyes, and the label of heretic. In a world that worships self-sacrifice, the selfish man is the outcast who'd rather be cursed than hollow. And if this path rattles you, maybe it's because it reflects a part of you you've tried too hard to bury.
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#56
psychologicalfiction
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"𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫." [Slow update] They say love feels like sunlight after winter. But no one warns you - sometimes, it burns. Sometimes, it scars. I never asked for obsession, for manipulation, or for love that feels like poison. He came like wildfire - raw, relentless, unapologetic. My first. My beautiful mistake. He was dangerous in the most beautiful way. Gentle with me, brutal with the world. Every moment with him was comfort laced with chaos. His love? Honey laced with venom - sweet, addicting, and lethal. He didn't cross lines. He erased them. In his madness, I mistook devotion. In cruelty, I saw protection. How do you run from someone who'd bleed to keep you breathing? He saw the cracks no one else noticed. Whispered promises in the dark. And a part of me clung to them. In his arms, the world ceased to exist. But the next storm didn't come with fire. It came in silence. He arrived like a shadow - watching, waiting, suffocating. He didn't touch me - not yet. But I felt him, like smoke in my lungs. He studied me. Then he moved. And when he did, everything changed. He didn't want to love me. He wanted to rewrite me. His silence screamed louder than words. He wanted me to destroy myself for him. Now, I'm torn between two kinds of insanity: One who would ruin the world to protect me. Another who would ruin me to make me his world. And I can't tell the difference anymore. They circle me like wolves, each calling it love. But love was never meant to feel like this. Was it? I used to believe love was a gift. Now I know - it's a gamble. A bloody one. And in this game of obsession and betrayal, I'm no longer sure who the real villain is. Because when both players would kill you for love... What does that make you?

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