The Harsh Truth About Women | Nietzsche
Role-playing speech:
[Music] They lied to you. Society, history, even your own desires, wrapped in Illusions. Women are not what they told you, not Angels, not villains, but something far more unsettling and far more powerful. Over a century ago, n saw through the mask, and once you see it too, you can never unsee it.
This is not Comfort, this is not blame; this is the truth. You were never meant to hear. You were never in love with her, only with the illusion—the perfect woman, gentle, pure, devoted—a fantasy crafted by Poets, priests, and desperate men clinging to a dream.
But nii, he saw the LIE, he saw the truth. Men do not love women; they love their own reflection projected onto a body they barely understand. They worship what they wish she was, not who she is, and when reality shatters that illusion, resentment takes its place.
A woman is not a blank slate; she is not the untouched Canvas Men paint their dreams upon. She has desires, Ambitions, instincts—some hidden, some in plain sight. But the biggest illusion is that she loves the way men love, for a man, love is devotion—a surrender, a need to protect, to possess; for a woman, love is Choice, it is calculation, it is survival, and when the balance shifts, when devotion is no longer useful, love is discarded like an empty shell.
You were taught that women are the softer Kinder sex, but what if softness is a weapon? What if kindness is not innocence but strategy? She does not conquer with Force; she does not fight with fists. Why would she need to influence? It is sharper than a blade—the ability to guide, to deceive, to mold perception; that is the true power, and yet men refuse to see it.
They fall in love with the cage and call it Freedom. You think she belongs to you, that her love is pure, and laugh at this delusion. Love, to a woman, is never blind; it is precise, it is chosen, it is earned, and when the illusion Fades, she will not hesitate to move on. A man falls in love with the dream of forever; a woman, she falls in love with the moment, and the moment always ends.
She is not cruel; she is not heartless—she is only what Nature Made her to be, and it is men, blinded by their own fantasies, who cannot accept it. You were never her world, only a moment in it. Power—the one thing men believe they hold over women, the one thing they think she lacks—but nii saw the truth: power is not always loud, not always violent; sometimes the sharpest blade is the one you never see.
Men build Empires with war, with Conquest, with Force, but women—women build something stronger. They do not take power; they become power. Their weapons are subtle: soft words, lingering glances, silence when needed, passion when necessary. Power does not always demand; sometimes it simply invites.
A man believes he rules his world, his kingdom, his wealth, his name, but look closer: who shaped him? Who made him believe in himself? Who whispered in his ear, led him without command, controlled without appearing to? Kings have worn crowns, but history was written by the hands that touched them in the dark.
A woman's strength is not in Brute Force; it is in understanding, in patience, in knowing that direct battle is a Fool's game. Why fight when you can be fought for? Why Chase when you can make them come to you? Why command when a whisper can move mountains?
And so men mock what they do not understand. They call women manipulative, deceitful, but what is manipulation if not the art of survival, for centuries denied power, denied Choice, denied Freedom? What else was she supposed to do? Men made the rules; women learned to bend them—they call it deception, she calls it Instinct, a way to exist in a world that was never built for her, and yet without her, it would collapse.
Look at the greatest leaders, the strongest Warriors, The Men Who shaped history—beside them, behind them, above them, in ways they never saw was a woman, whispering, guiding, directing. Even today, power has evolved; it is no longer just about The Throne, the battlefield, or the wealth of Nations. Influence is the new Empire, attention is the new currency, and women—they have mastered both.
They no longer need to hide in the shadows; now they stand in the light, and still men cannot see, because men expect power to be like their own—loud, aggressive, undeniable. But the greatest power, the greatest power, is the one that does not need to ask, does not need to demand. The greatest power is the one that makes you believe you are in control while you are already kneeling, and that is the power women wield—love.
They say it's the purest of emotions, the great equalizer, the force that binds Souls together, but nii saw the truth: love is not peace, love is not Harmony, love is a Battlefield. A man loves like a soldier: he surrenders, he devotes, he offers himself completely, believing love is his Refuge. But for a woman, love is not surrender; love is Strat stry, love is survival, and survival is war.
Men believe in the fairy tale that love should be unconditional, that devotion should be enough, but a woman does not love blindly. She does not love without reason; her love is precise, calculated, given only when it serves her nature. She was never taught to fight with fists, but she was taught to fight with love, because love is power, and power is never given—it is taken.
Men fall hard, quick, recklessly—they love as if love itself will complete them, but to a woman, love is a negotiation, a constant exchange of value. She does not fall; she chooses, she studies, she waits, and when she decides, it is never without purpose. And when the balance shifts, when the scales tip, when love no longer benefits her, she will not hesitate.
A man will hold on, beg, break himself just to keep what was already gone; a woman—a woman simply leaves without looking back. This is why men suffer in love, because they fight Wars they never understood. They bring their hearts to a battlefield where hearts are just weapons. They think loyalty is enough, that effort is enough, that love itself is enough, but nii knew the harsh truth: Love Is Never Enough, because love is not about giving—it is about winning.
Men dream of eternal love; women understand that love is only ever temporary—it lasts only as long as it serves a purpose, and when that purpose Fades, so does the love. A man loves desperately, clinging to the illusion of forever; a woman loves decisively, knowing forever is an illusion. And so men lose the war before they even know it has begun, because love was never a fair fight, and in war, only one side can afford to be blind.
Morality, the great illusion, the invisible force that shapes societies, dictates laws, and controls desire—men believe morality is truth, something sacred, something absolute, but n saw deeper. He saw morality for what it truly is—not truth, but strategy, and no one has mastered this strategy more than women. For centuries denied power, denied control, denied even the right to shape their own destiny—what choice did they have? They could not fight with swords; they could not rule with might, so they ruled with something stronger, something far more dangerous: virtue.
Men waged wars with steel and blood; women waged Wars with ideals and guilt. They turned morality into a battlefield where no swords were needed, where power did not come from Force but from the ability to Define what is good and what is evil. A man seeks dominance through action, through Conquest; a woman, she seeks dominance by shaping perception, by making her desires appear Noble, by making her interests appear righteous, and by making resistance feel like sin.
Think about it: who decides what is selfish and what is selfless? Who decides what is Honorable and what is shameful? Who turns sacrifice into virtue and ambition into Vice? Morality was never about truth; it was about control, and the greatest trick was convincing men that this morality was their own idea—that devotion is Noble, that suffering is proof of love, that a man who gives everything for a woman is a good man, and a man who expects something in return is a villain.
Men are taught that the highest form of love is self-sacrifice, that a real man gives without expecting, protects without question, provides without limit, but Nichi asks: who benefits from this morality? Who gains power when a man abandons himself for love? Who wins when the rules of virtue demand his obedience but never hers? Women did not create the world of men; they did not write the laws of Steel, War, an Empire, but they mastered something greater—the laws of guilt, obligation, and shame.
They did not need to control men's bodies when they could control their minds, because the most powerful prison is the one you never realize you are in. So men give, they protect, they serve, and they believe this is what makes them worthy of love, but n saw the flaw: love is not a reward for sacrifice; it is not a prize for goodness, and morality was never meant to free you—it was meant to tame you, because morality is not about what is right, it is about what is useful, and for centuries it has been used against you.
For centuries, women lived in the shadows, defined by men, controlled by men, Bound by laws they did not write, but now the balance has shifted, the rules have changed. The independent woman has risen, and with her, the illusion of love, power, and morality has been shattered. Men once ruled through strength; they built kingdoms, waged Wars, shaped history, but they never saw the quiet Revolution happening beneath their feet.
Women were never powerless; they were only patient—patience, this was their greatest weapon. While men fought for control of the outside world, women mastered control of the inner World. They learned to shape perception, to influence, to create narratives so powerful that men enforced them on themselves. And now, now they no longer need patience because the waiting game is over.
The independent woman is no, no longer bound by devotion, no longer confined by Duty, no longer forced into submission by morality disguised as virtue. She has taken the very structures men built—education, economy, law—and made them her own. Men once asked for loyalty; now they beg for attention. Men once provided and protected; now they wonder why they are no longer needed.
The independent woman has no master, no obligation, no fear of abandonment because she was never dependent to begin with. And yet men still cling to the past—they ask, "Where have all the good women gone?" But they refuse to see the truth: good women were never lost; they simply evolved. They no longer need to be good in the way men once demanded; they no longer need to nurture, to submit, to build their lives around the dreams of another.
Men built the modern world, but in doing so, they built the very tools of their own irrelevance. And now the independent woman walks freely within it—without fear, without need, without you. And so the question remains, not "Where have the good women gone?" but "Where does that leave men?" Because n knew power is never given; it is only taken, and now the ones who were once controlled hold the Reigns.
Illusion—it is comforting, it is warm, it is safe, but n never cared for safety; he cared for truth, and the truth is cold. You were raised on illusions, taught to believe in love as something pure, morality as something sacred, devotion as something Noble, but what if none of it was real? What if it was all just a strategy—a system designed not to free you but to Blind you?
For centuries, men have lived asleep, dreaming of a world that never existed—a world where love is unconditional, where goodness is rewarded, where devotion is enough. But now the dream is breaking, the illusion is fading, and what remains? Reality. Women were never Angels, they were never villains, they were never The Fragile creatures men believed them to be; they were simply human—powerful in ways men never understood, strategic in ways men never expected.
And now the question is not about them; it is about you, because when the illusion is gone, when the comforting lies have burned away, all that's left is Choice. Do you rage against reality, clinging to a past that will never, never return? Do you curse women for playing a game you never knew you were in, or do you evolve? Do you see the world for what it is and rise above it?
Nii never hated illusion; he only hated those too weak to see beyond it. He knew that power belongs to those who do not beg for love, who do not seek approval, who do not wait for permission to exist. And so here you stand at the edge of the illusion, staring into the abyss of Truth. Most men will turn away, afraid of what they might see, but a few—a few will step forward, a few will embrace the harsh reality, a few will reclaim themselves—no longer Shackled by false beliefs, no longer prisoners of expectation—because beyond illusion, beyond the dream, is the only thing that has ever mattered: Freedom.
The truth is Harsh, the truth is uncomfortable, but the truth is freedom. For centuries, men have lived inside a dream, believing in love as salvation, in Morality, in devotion as virtue, but n ripped away the mask—he saw that love is not pure, that morality is not absolute, that devotion is not rewarded; it is exploited, and now you see it too. The illusion is broken, the world is not what you were told; women are not what you believed, and love—love is not what you thought it was.
So what now? What do you do with this knowledge? You have two choices: you can reject it, run from it, deny it, desperately cling to the past, to the comforting lies, to the fantasy that everything will return to the way it was—but deep down, you already know it won't; it never will. Or you can embrace it, step into the unknown, accept that the world has changed, and that to survive, to thrive, you must change with it—no longer seek validation, no longer beg for love, no longer measure your worth by the approval of those who will never see you as more than a tool.
Become more, become sovereign, become Untouchable. This is not about hating women; this is not about revenge—this is about understanding, seeing the world as it is, not as you were told it should be, and in that understanding, finding something greater: indifference, power, freedom. Because in the end, nich did not seek to destroy illusion just to leave men empty; he sought to break Illusions so that men could finally see The Only Thing Worth Chasing, The Only Thing Worth living for—the only thing that has ever been real is the path you carve for yourself. No more waiting, no more begging, no more dreaming—wake up, reclaim your mind, and step forward, not as the man you were told to be, but as the man you were meant to become.
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