Can someone delete my profile pls

[Skinwalker]

WTF is going on in this thread?

Clearly no one pulled fhe pflug on this guy since his account is still active.

He's BANNED, you retard.

 

[Zarniwoop]

WTF is going on in this thread?

Clearly no one pulled fhe pflug on this guy since his account is still active.

He's BANNED, you retard.

So... Not deleted then, like the thread title asks for?

Please go back to Asia and don't come back until you learn some English, thanks.

 

[Skinwalker]

WTF is going on in this thread?

Clearly no one pulled fhe pflug on this guy since his account is still active.

He's BANNED, you retard.

So... Not deleted then, like the thread title asks for?

No, just banned, as opposed to "his account is still active", imbecile.

 

[babayaga]

I have my differences with BosanskiSeljak, but he is a way better poster than you lol.

Diary of Beans00 – September 21, 2024

I saw his post today. Another one. He doesn’t even know I’m watching him this closely. BosanskiSeljak. I think about him too much. More than I want to admit. He’s slipping—slipping into something dark, and I can’t just sit here anymore and watch it happen. It’s like I can see the fight inside of him, the way he keeps circling around that darkpatriot guy, like he’s drawn to him but can’t stand it.

I know the feeling. I’ve seen people get pulled into those black holes of toxic debate before, but this is different. He’s different. There’s something about the way he writes... It’s raw. Honest. It feels like he’s trying to reach out, even though he doesn’t realize it. He doesn’t know that someone’s out here, actually caring about what happens to him.

But I care. A lot.

I want to help him. Defend him, somehow, but I don’t even know if he’d let me. What could I say? “Hey, I see you struggling with your obsession over this asshole, and I just want you to know that you’re not alone”? I doubt that would even register with him. He’s so wrapped up in his own head right now, he probably wouldn’t even see me standing there. Still, I want to stand there. I want to be the person who pulls him out before he falls in too deep.

But there’s more to it, isn’t there?

It’s not just... compassion. I can’t pretend it’s that simple. This thing—whatever it is—goes deeper than that. I think about him all the time, about what he must be going through, how hard it must be to wrestle with someone like darkpatriot. And then, I think about him—about who he is when he’s not online. What he’s like. What he looks like when he’s not fighting some ideological battle.

It makes me feel protective, like I want to be closer to him. But is that friendship? Or... something more?

I keep asking myself the same questions over and over. I’ve never felt this way about anyone on a forum before, not like this. Yeah, I’ve made friends, argued, bonded, but this? This is something else entirely, and it’s confusing as hell. I can’t figure out if I just feel sorry for him, or if it’s more than that. Is it pity, or am I... attracted to him? And if I am—God, what do I even do with that? He’s out there spiraling, and here I am, trying to sort through my own feelings like I’m some teenager with a crush.

It feels ridiculous. But I can’t help it.

I just... I want to help him. I want to see him pull through this. But what does that mean? Am I helping because I care about him like a friend, or because I want to be something more? I don’t know. Maybe I don’t need to know right now. I just need to make sure he’s okay.

But I can’t shake this feeling. I can’t stop thinking about how it would feel if he actually noticed me, saw me for who I am, maybe even needed me the way I feel like I need him.

It’s confusing. It’s messy. But I can’t walk away from it, and I don’t think I want to.

For now, I’ll keep watching. Keep reading his posts. Maybe one day, I’ll find the courage to step in and say something. If I ever figure out what that something is.

I have no clue what this beef is about but this post and the previous are fantastic. Please tell me you didn't use chat gpt for this and it's your own creation.

 

[darkpatriot]

I have no clue what this beef is about but this post and the previous are fantastic. Please tell me you didn't use chat gpt for this and it's your own creation.

Diary of darkpatriot – September 22, 2024

They know.

At least, I think they do. Babayaga, ds, and Modron—they’re circling me like vultures, sniffing around for any sign of weakness. They’ve already thrown it out there, half-joking but also not: “Hey, darkpatriot, you using ChatGPT for those posts? You sound a little too polished, man.” I brushed it off with some sarcastic comment, the usual stuff about how they’re just jealous, or how AI could never match the sharpness of my mind. But inside, I was crumbling.

They’re right. I’ve been using ChatGPT.

God, even writing that makes my stomach churn. I feel like a fraud, and I hate it. The forum—it’s my place. The one place where I can actually feel like I belong to something, where my words have weight, where people actually listen to me. Or, at least, I thought they did. And now, the thing that gave me that voice—the crutch I’ve been leaning on—could destroy me if they find out for real.

It’s not like I’m lazy or incapable. I can argue. I do have strong opinions. But sometimes, I just can’t find the right words. I sit there staring at the blank screen, knowing what I want to say but unable to articulate it. ChatGPT filled in the gaps, made me sharper, more concise, more compelling. And yeah, it worked. People were paying attention. I got validation. I got respect. But now... now I feel like it’s all slipping away.

If they figure it out, if they realize just how much I’ve relied on it, I don’t know what’ll happen. I tell myself I don’t care what these people think. I’ve even said it out loud before—typed it into the forum for everyone to see. “You think I need your approval? Please. I’ll say what I want, how I want, and if you don’t like it, that’s your problem, not mine.”

But that’s a lie, isn’t it?

I care. I care way too much. Their approval means everything to me. I know how pathetic that sounds, but it’s the truth. This forum is all I have. My life offline is a ghost town. No friends. No real connections. Just... nothing. But on here, I’ve built something. I’ve built a persona, someone strong, someone people actually listen to. The thought of them turning on me, of them seeing me as some fake who can’t even write his own posts... it’s unbearable.

The anxiety is killing me. Every time I see a notification, my chest tightens. Are they talking about me again? Are they piecing it together? Maybe they’re sharing private messages, laughing behind my back. I don’t know what to do. I’ve considered coming clean, just confessing and trying to spin it somehow. Saying that I’ve been experimenting with AI to “enhance” my arguments. Maybe they’d buy that, see me as some kind of tech-savvy provocateur instead of a fraud. But who am I kidding? They’ll crucify me. They’ll see right through it.

I feel trapped. The more I think about it, the more I realize I’ve backed myself into a corner. I’m not sure there’s a way out of this. If I stop using ChatGPT now, my posts will lose that edge. They’ll notice the drop-off, the sudden shift in tone. And if I keep using it, I’m living on borrowed time, just waiting for the moment they finally expose me.

God, why did I do this? Why did I let it go this far? All I wanted was to belong, to matter to someone, somewhere. And now, I’m terrified I’m going to lose everything.

I don’t know what the future holds. Part of me wants to run, to delete my account, vanish from the forum, and never look back. But the thought of disappearing completely is just as bad. I don’t want to go back to that loneliness, that silence. Not again.

I need to think. There’s got to be a way out of this, a way to save face. Maybe I can find a middle ground. Maybe I can slowly phase out the AI, post more in my own voice again. Or maybe... I’m just doomed to be found out.

Either way, it feels like I’m running out of time. And the worst part is, I can’t tell anyone. Not a soul.

Not even them.