disliked

“No, this can’t be happening, I’m literally shaking and crying rn”, I exclaim, as I’m shaking and crying. I reach towards my usual form of self defence, the dislike button, the tool to protect myself from the intimidating presence of such a bold and powerful opinion. Its strength has waned with time, and I see myself facing the demons of terrible takes on this god-forsaken platform with much more frequency. But even in these trying times, it’s always been by my side. My rock, my weapon, my tool to finally show the people who make these points pay, to give them their just desserts. But when I reach towards the button, confident that it will aid me, confident that it will be the light to pierce the darkness… I realize that It’s gone. Why is it gone? Why did it leave me? The dislike button had always been at my side. Had I abused its power, using it only to serve my self-righteous quest of vengeance? Had I been rejected by its gracious will, never to be allowed to wield such a weapon again? It couldn’t be true. It had to be a lie, an illusion to trick me into thinking I was powerless. It surely was a test, right? A test of faith and might, a test to see if I was truly willing to put up my arms and fight for its cause… I desperately searched for it, my beacon of hope in war, as I was swiftly overwhelmed by the hordes of terrible takes. But no matter where I looked or what I did, the dislike button did not appear. It was gone forever. I went mad because of the realization. Was I truly unworthy of the powers of opinion? Could it be that in my attempts to fight back, I had found pleasure in drawing the blade of contempt and disapproval, complacent in the web of lies that I had been crafting for myself? Was the dislike button even real to begin with, or was it a twisted dream of my imagination, desperately trying to distance myself of the blood I drew with each and every confrontation? I sat down to ponder, as my reality collapsed around me. I had no dislikes. I had no power. And slowly, but surely, I was lost to the darkness… And my name became a mere memory, as I had lost everything I stood for, and the only thought in my mind was of the person who had robbed me of my identity, of my existence.

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  1. “No ๐Ÿ™…, this can’t ๐Ÿšซ๐Ÿ›น be happening ๐Ÿ˜ฑ, I’m ๐Ÿ’˜ literally ๐Ÿ’ฏ shaking ๐Ÿค and crying ๐Ÿ˜ข rn ๐Ÿ˜‚”, I ๐Ÿ‘ exclaim ๐Ÿ˜ค, as I’m ๐Ÿ’˜ shaking ๐Ÿค and crying ๐Ÿ˜ญ. I ๐Ÿ‘ reach ๐Ÿ‘‰ towards ๐Ÿ”œ my usual ๐Ÿ˜„ form ๐Ÿ“‹ of self ๐Ÿ’ฏ defence ๐Ÿ›ก, the dislike ๐Ÿ’ฏ button ๐Ÿ”˜, the tool ๐Ÿ”ง to protect ๐Ÿ›ก myself from the intimidating presence ๐ŸŽ of such a bold ๐Ÿ’ช and powerful ๐Ÿ’ช๐Ÿ’ฏ opinion ๐Ÿ˜ค. Its strength ๐Ÿ’ช has waned with time โฐ, and I ๐Ÿ‘ see ๐Ÿ‘ myself facing ๐Ÿ‘ง the demons ๐Ÿ‘น๐Ÿ˜ˆ of terrible โœ” takes ๐Ÿ‘Š on ๐Ÿ”› this god-forsaken โš” platform ๐Ÿ˜ฑ๐Ÿ˜ฎ with much ๐Ÿ”ฅ more frequency โฐ. But ๐Ÿ‘ even ๐ŸŒ in these trying ๐Ÿ’™๐Ÿ˜ˆ times ๐Ÿ•๐Ÿ“…, it’s always ๐Ÿ•” been by my side ๐Ÿ‘ˆ๐Ÿ‘‰. My rock ๐Ÿ—ฟ, my weapon ๐Ÿ—ก๐Ÿ”ซ๐Ÿ’ฃ, my tool ๐Ÿ”จ to finally ๐Ÿ‘† show ๐Ÿ“บ the people ๐Ÿ‘จ who make ๐Ÿ–• these points ๐Ÿ“ pay ๐Ÿ’ฒ, to give ๐Ÿ‘‰ them their just desserts ๐Ÿจ. But ๐Ÿค” when โฐ I ๐Ÿ‘ reach ๐Ÿ‘‰ towards โ›ช the button ๐Ÿ”ด๐Ÿ”˜, confident ๐Ÿ˜Ž that it will aid ๐Ÿ˜ท me, confident ๐Ÿ˜Ž that it will be the light ๐Ÿ’ก to pierce ๐ŸŒฝ the darkness ๐ŸŒš… I ๐Ÿ‘ realize ๐Ÿค” that It’s gone ๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿพ. Why ๐Ÿค” is it gone ๐Ÿ’จ? Why ๐Ÿค”๐Ÿฝ did it leave ๐ŸŽบ๐ŸŒณ๐Ÿƒ me? The dislike ๐Ÿ‘Ž button ๐Ÿ”ด had always ๐Ÿ•” been at my side ๐Ÿ‘ˆ๐Ÿ‘‰. Had I ๐Ÿ‘ abused ๐Ÿ˜ช๐Ÿคค๐Ÿฅต its power ๐Ÿ’ช๐Ÿ’ฅ, using ๐Ÿ˜ it only to serve ๐Ÿ’ my self-righteous ๐Ÿ˜ค๐Ÿ˜  quest โœ… of vengeance ๐Ÿ˜ ๐Ÿ˜ก? Had I ๐Ÿ‘ been rejected โŒ by its gracious โ—๐Ÿ‘‹๐Ÿ˜Ž will, never โŒ to be allowed ๐Ÿ˜– to wield such a weapon ๐Ÿ—กโš”๐Ÿคบ again โŒ๐Ÿ˜ฌ? It couldn’t be true ๐Ÿ’ฏ. It had to be a lie ๐Ÿ˜–๐Ÿ˜ค๐Ÿ˜ข, an illusion ๐Ÿ˜› to trick ๐ŸŽƒ๐Ÿ‘ป me into thinking ๐Ÿค” I ๐Ÿ‘ was powerless ๐Ÿค•. It surely ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿป was a test ๐Ÿ“๐Ÿ‘Œ, right ๐Ÿ‘Œ? A test ๐Ÿ“๐Ÿ“ˆ of faith ๐Ÿ•Š and might ๐Ÿ’ช, a test ๐Ÿ’ฏ to see ๐Ÿ‘ if I ๐Ÿ‘ was truly โœ… willing ๐Ÿ’ฉ to put ๐Ÿ˜ up โฌ†๐Ÿ‘Š my arms ๐Ÿ’ช and fight ๐ŸฅŠ for its cause ๐ŸŽ—… I ๐Ÿ‘ desperately ๐Ÿ˜” searched ๐Ÿ’ฌ๐Ÿ‘ฉโ€๐Ÿ’ป for it, my beacon ๐Ÿšจ of hope ๐Ÿ™ in war ๐Ÿ”ซ๐Ÿ’ฃโ˜ , as I ๐Ÿ‘ was swiftly ๐Ÿƒ๐Ÿป๐Ÿ™ overwhelmed โ›ˆ by the hordes ๐Ÿ‘‹ of terrible ๐Ÿ‘Ž takes ๐Ÿ‘Š. But ๐Ÿ‘ no ๐Ÿ™… matter ๐Ÿ™… where I ๐Ÿ‘ looked ๐Ÿ‘€ or what I ๐Ÿ‘ฅ did, the dislike ๐Ÿ‘Ž button ๐Ÿ”ด๐Ÿ”ตโšช did not appear ๐Ÿ”Ž. It was gone ๐Ÿƒ forever ๐Ÿ–ค๐Ÿ•. I ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿคด went ๐Ÿƒโ™‚ mad ๐Ÿ˜  because of the realization ๐Ÿค”๐Ÿ’ก๐Ÿ’ญ. Was I ๐Ÿ‘ truly ๐Ÿ’ฏ unworthy ๐Ÿ˜ค of the powers ๐Ÿ’ชโœŠโšก of opinion ๐Ÿ˜ค๐ŸŽค? Could it be that in my attempts ๐Ÿ™‹ to fight ๐ŸฅŠ back ๐Ÿ”™, I ๐Ÿ‘ had found ๐Ÿค”๐Ÿ”Ž pleasure ๐Ÿ™ in drawing ๐Ÿ”™ the blade ๐Ÿ—ก of contempt ๐Ÿ˜ค and disapproval ๐Ÿคจ, complacent ๐Ÿ˜‰๐Ÿ…ฑ in the web ๐Ÿ’ป๐Ÿ•ธ of lies ๐Ÿ˜ค that I ๐Ÿ‘ฅ had been crafting for myself? Was the dislike ๐Ÿ‘Ž button ๐Ÿ”˜ even ๐ŸŒƒ real ๐Ÿ’ฏ to begin ๐Ÿ”˜ with, or was it a twisted ๐ŸŒช dream ๐Ÿ’ญ of my imagination ๐Ÿค”๐Ÿ˜‘๐Ÿ™„, desperately ๐Ÿ˜” trying ๐Ÿ˜ˆ to distance ๐Ÿ—พ myself of the blood ๐Ÿ’‰ I โœŠ๐Ÿ‘ drew ใ€ฐ with each and every ๐Ÿ’ฏ confrontation? I ๐Ÿ‘ sat ๐Ÿ’บ down โฌ‡๐Ÿ‘Ž to ponder ๐Ÿ”‘๐Ÿผ, as my reality โœ…๐Ÿ’ฏ collapsed ๐Ÿ‘ง๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ‡ around ๐Ÿ”ƒ me. I ๐Ÿ‘ฅ had no โŒ๐Ÿšซ dislikes ๐Ÿ‘Ž. I ๐Ÿ‘ had no ๐Ÿ˜ฃ power ๐Ÿ’ช. And slowly ๐Ÿข, but ๐Ÿ‘ surely ๐Ÿ‘, I ๐Ÿ‘ was lost ๐Ÿณ to the darkness ๐ŸŒ‘… And my name ๐Ÿ“› became ๐Ÿšก a mere ๐Ÿซ memory ๐Ÿง , as I ๐Ÿ‘ฅ had lost ๐Ÿณ everything ๐Ÿ’ฏ๐Ÿ‘ฌ๐Ÿ” I ๐Ÿ‘ stood ๐Ÿšถ๐Ÿปโ€โ™‚๏ธ for, and the only thought ๐Ÿค” in my mind ๐Ÿคฏ was of the person ๐Ÿ‘ฌ๐Ÿ‘ซ๐Ÿ‘ญ who had robbed ๐Ÿ˜‚ me of my identity ๐Ÿ‘™๐Ÿ’ฆ๐Ÿ‘Œ, of my existence ๐Ÿ’.

  2. > “No, this can’t be happening, I’m literally shaking and crying rn”, I exclaim, as I’m shaking and crying. I reach towards my usual form of self defence, the dislike button, the tool to protect myself from the intimidating presence of such a bold and powerful opinion. Its strength has waned with time, and I see myself facing the demons of terrible takes on this god-forsaken platform with much more frequency. But even in these trying times, it’s always been by my side. My rock, my weapon, my tool to finally show the people who make these points pay, to give them their just desserts. But when I reach towards the button, confident that it will aid me, confident that it will be the light to pierce the darkness…

     

    >I realize that It’s gone. Why is it gone? Why did it leave me? The dislike button had always been at my side. Had I abused its power, using it only to serve my self-righteous quest of vengeance? Had I been rejected by its gracious will, never to be allowed to wield such a weapon again? It couldn’t be true. It had to be a lie, an illusion to trick me into thinking I was powerless. It surely was a test, right? A test of faith and might, a test to see if I was truly willing to put up my arms and fight for its cause… I desperately searched for it, my beacon of hope in war, as I was swiftly overwhelmed by the hordes of terrible takes.

     

    >But no matter where I looked or what I did, the dislike button did not appear. It was gone forever. I went mad because of the realization. Was I truly unworthy of the powers of opinion? Could it be that in my attempts to fight back, I had found pleasure in drawing the blade of contempt and disapproval, complacent in the web of lies that I had been crafting for myself? Was the dislike button even real to begin with, or was it a twisted dream of my imagination, desperately trying to distance myself of the blood I drew with each and every confrontation? I sat down to ponder, as my reality collapsed around me.

     

    >I had no dislikes. I had no power. And slowly, but surely, I was lost to the darkness… And my name became a mere memory, as I had lost everything I stood for, and the only thought in my mind was of the person who had robbed me of my identity, of my existence.

     

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