The Wigger in crisis

Why have I been away for a year? Just kidding, nobody reads my blogposts, fuck you too.

I had been living in New Brunswick, Canada, for the past few months, and, as you may know, there have been quite a few big storms there, snowing everywhere, and, ruining all our time. I stalled my moving out, for I decided to help out, considering the city was really fucked by the snowstorm. Since it was a coastal city, there were, of course, a bunch of shitty white people, my favorite folks, the wiggers.

Me in college (kidding, didn't go to college)

My apartment building is a damned television show, with every personality under the sun. There are 4 people, who I may classify as wiggers. I'll call them Jim, James, Jones, and Jay. Jim, James, and, Jones were friends, but Jay lived across from me, and, due to the garbage trap music he played, you could tell he was a wigger. The first three lived on the first floor, and, being friends, were often together, gossiping in a very womannish way, about relationships or what happened to rappers or drug dealers (or both, as it typically works out to be). Jay seemed to meet them in the lobby, but mostly kept to himself, as a friendship of convenience or desperation.

They had no real human connection, but, acted all tough and mighty when they fought each other or some other guys who lived in the shittiest apartment complex in the city (thankfully very few blacks, especially compared to, say Philly), but I don't dislike that, personally. Granted, I am a pacifist, and, don't agree with violence, as, full disclosure, I'm not a tall guy, not that imposing at all, but these guys, despite their violent tendencies, never wanted to fight me, even when I was confrontational. In their cowardice, they fought like men against themselves, and like sheep against anyone else.

Even as a pacifist, I can accept violence, but, of a noble sort. Ancient warriors are not barbarians, they're legendary heroes. Likewise, I don't dislike those who are totally attached to the material, and, while there may be deeper meaning, materialism does, admittedly, bring a conciseness to thought. However, these two things, combined with an unchallenged normie white man, will make a slob, a scumbag, and a WIGGER.

I define Wiggers, not as a white guy who wants to be a nigger, but as a white guy who has taken all of the worst aspects of the most debatable parts of whiteness, which, I will admit, isn't few, as whites are far from perfect. These Wiggers shouldn't be blamed on Jews or Blacks, but on us whites, as, WE are to blame for their crisis.

I have since left New Brunswick, but I won't forget those wiggers. They have given me a new view, of myself. I am a degenerate, and, on the off chance that someone reads this, you may be too, but I am not a failure of society. I'm a nomad, I go to place from place, looking for direction.

Is it artificial? Am I really, at heart, a wigger? Maybe. But, maybe my desperation, my search for meaning for myself and others, my therapy through writing I am too lazy to publish, is a sign of the positive, not the negative. I do believe, I, and any other good white, can develop, and, at least that, is movement, is good. I have good in me, and, it can grow.

But wiggers don't. They're the worst kind of NPC. The kind that makes me start to hate, hate white people, yes. Their default state is having been defeated by a preexisting existential crisis. They have failed as white men and as people, and I really think they can't go on.

I am in crisis, but I am not a wigger. I have one thing pushing me forward. Some say 'muh white pride' is pathetic, but everyone feels pathetic. I have a way, not to escape from patheticness, as I do through the volumes of journal shit I've written but won't publish, but to give myself a chance to escape it. It isn't escapism, it is an opening to improve.

So, if anyone reads this- hi, I'm glad to be back, and I will never give up.