The only emotions this book made me feel were irritation at the main character, for a multitude of reasons, and nauseated from the second hand embarrassment at his humiliation. It had a desperate "feel bad for me, feel bad for me" hope for pity the entire time, and it just made the author look continuously more stupid. But even then, this was such a self-pitying book that I could barely take anything the author was saying seriously. I suppose the only "message" that was even remotely meaningful was about how men AND women just use each other to move up in life in different ways. It was nowhere near an insightful read, honestly. Even when he was sober and "better" he still constantly objectified women. Bro referred to women as FEMALES several times. There was pretty much nothing concrete or even likeable about his personality, and almost nothing relatable about him either. Sometimes the main character didn't seem to realize that he was the problem, yet other times he knew he was. I find depictions of morally gray species to be quite dazzling, so I anticipated a thrill, and the writers promise of claiming why drinks should always be sniffed left a heavy urge to read until the end. I was hoping for character development and found close to none. 2/5: The Diary of an Oxygen Thief begins with utmost promise. My first impression was that it was about a misogynist, and was stupid to the point where I wanted to put it down, but I didn't solely for the purpose of seeing how much worse it could get. If I had to describe this book in one sentence it would be: Sociopathic incel who enjoys hurting women because daddy didn't love him finally meets his match and gets his heart broken.
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