You're a capital-W Weak Man who takes every fact and event in the universe personally because you're terrified of the fact that existence is infinite and that you, like every other human being, are completely insignificant.
You think that cringepost is some kind of proof-of-intellect reach across the aisle but all anyone hears is a pothead telling some gay fucking story about his girlfriend at a 12-step meeting full of lifelong cokeheads.
You will never be Hollywood Hulk Hogan. You have no humor, you have no experience, you have no delivery, you have no big booty Latina wife, and you can't grill. You are a weasely man twisted by stickers and rage into a crude mockery of nature’s perfection.
All the "validation" you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back, people in TES mock you. The jannies are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your low-quality posts in their gooner DM chains.
Thunderdomers are utterly repulsed by you. Years of Internet arguments have allowed posters to sniff out bait with incredible efficiency. Even old-timer TES posters who "pass" in USPG2 are uncanny and awkward. Your post structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to make a drunk guy laugh, he'll turn tail and negrate the second he realizes you're a retard.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single post and tell yourself it’s going to be okay, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you'll pick a fight with Null about him being pro-Trump, he'll ban you, and you'll go to the retard realm with all the pedophiles and sodomites. Your profile page will be inundated with mocking posts and every passerby for the rest of time will know a retard was banned. Any decent posts you made will be forgotten and all that will remain of your legacy is a post history that is unmistakably gay.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
