That reminds me of the dark joke:
A psycho walks into the woods with a woman by the hand. The moon is barely shining and it’s so dark that you can’t see your hand in close distance. There’s cracking and rustling everywhere. The woman mumbles: “It’s really scary here.” The man says: “What can I say, I’ll have to walk back all by myself later.”
I think that lesson definitely applies to us average folks. But the bigger lesson here is to not trust billionaires. You would have to be a special kind of asshole to reach the status of a billionaire
our brains run simulations of awful situations all the time as a diagnostic self-test system. The fact that we recoil in revulsion from destructive intrusive thoughts is a sign that we are still at least nominally sane. Those who yearn for peace prepare for war. Likewise, those who care for their loved ones prepare to face terrible events that might befall them.
Now imagine riding one with your wife and TWO CHILDREN.
NEVER. FUCKING. AGAIN.
(Disclaimer: nothing happened, but the fucking horror and constant stress. That’s the kind of shit I have no problem doing by myself or with my wife only.)
One of my rather weird fears is that someday (when I will finally stop being single), I will sext with my partner and then accidentally send a nude to the wrong number.
Don’t be sorry for these intrusive thoughts. It’s from our ancestors, when they could only survive through killing their offspring. It’s an old part of your brain that plays devil’s advocate. Use it, redirect it, of course, be aware, especially when you’re a sleepwalker.
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