The power feels like it could rip a hole through my skin. I can feel it ripple through my whole body, like when my shoulderfat dances when I move my toes. But my toes are not moving, because the doctor has removed my toes.
My BMI is twice my height in inches, and I'm only more physically powerful than my invalid boyfriend; but physical strength is a redundant measure of the patriarchy's valuation of its slaves, and this is a different kind of strength. I fear that my heart may give out, lest the power does not find its outlet soon.
I open Reddit immediately from Twitter. I know that SRD needs me. I know that they need my strength. If what I read has not already given half the SRDines another PTSD, then I believe that I can still help them. I can help everyone.
There it is: posted on new just recently. The discussion must take place. I'm not too late. I'm not too late.
The power inside me has already burnt too many precious calories for the day, and I know that, if I live through this, my undiagnosed PCOS and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome will demand I rest for several days. But I cannot think of resting now. This must be completed. I fear what will happen to my sisters should I take just one more nap before accomplishing my mission.
I find the W key. It won't go down, but finally the crust on my keyboard breaks, and the letter is activated. So far, so good. And I reward myself with the delicious crust.
Next, I locate A, and get so many up there on the terminal. I'm nearly done. I have already done so, so much. Trump cannot quell the resistance. Racists and TERFs thought that they had heard the end of me after I deleted all my social media after that cishitter berniebro responded unsolicitedly in a toxic way to a comment I made about how all male children should be raped before they have the opportunity to commit rape themselves. But my mind is wandering: I must remember what comes next. Please Hermoine tell me what comes next.
There it is. The power inside me is now pushing farts out of me at a rate of over 60 per minute, and I know that my boyfriend will awaken and crawl out from my folds within moments. I haven't much time before he will need to make me another dinner. I examine what I have typed already, and weep in ecstasy: the world will never be the same once I'm through. And I'm nearly done.
And there it is! The H! At the moment I touched the key, I must have blacked out, because all I remember next is seeing my boyfriend covered in my poo, and the masterpiece my body has wrought, too, on the computer screen. I cannot count all the letters, but I know that what I have written is perfect. It is the perfect argument to everything bad ever. I hit submit. I am now done with the only job I can say I have ever had. But I correct myself, because this was labor Reddit extracted from me to make their old corporate rich executives more money so that they can afford to rape even more black and brown girl babies. But wait, I hear something now:
The Reddit coins. They surge from the ether, and where once there was nothing, there is now a number on my screen far higher than anything I feel safe enough to try to count to. The SRDines at once make me their moderator, then their top moderator, then finally their Beyoncé. I use the Reddit gold to finance young BIPOC in the arts. I accuse my boyfriend of rape, and he trusts that I'm right and hangs himself. Then I cancel him for a suicide method that is basically rope blackface.
Using just three simple letters on SRD, I have singlehandedly ended racism, sexism, fascism, fatphobia, paedohate, and furryhate. My heart bursts, because my Wiccan soul knows that this was why Goddess created me.
But when I reach Witch Heaven, I'm shocked to find new hatred: no TERF Rowling bitchface cishit cunt is willing to touch my feminine penis. Is this hell? Why did Hermoine do this to me? After everything I've done? But then I realize: I'm needed here too.
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25 hvfcfujtivhjcy 2020-07-24
I know what I must do.
The power feels like it could rip a hole through my skin. I can feel it ripple through my whole body, like when my shoulderfat dances when I move my toes. But my toes are not moving, because the doctor has removed my toes.
My BMI is twice my height in inches, and I'm only more physically powerful than my invalid boyfriend; but physical strength is a redundant measure of the patriarchy's valuation of its slaves, and this is a different kind of strength. I fear that my heart may give out, lest the power does not find its outlet soon.
I open Reddit immediately from Twitter. I know that SRD needs me. I know that they need my strength. If what I read has not already given half the SRDines another PTSD, then I believe that I can still help them. I can help everyone.
There it is: posted on new just recently. The discussion must take place. I'm not too late. I'm not too late.
The power inside me has already burnt too many precious calories for the day, and I know that, if I live through this, my undiagnosed PCOS and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome will demand I rest for several days. But I cannot think of resting now. This must be completed. I fear what will happen to my sisters should I take just one more nap before accomplishing my mission.
I find the W key. It won't go down, but finally the crust on my keyboard breaks, and the letter is activated. So far, so good. And I reward myself with the delicious crust.
Next, I locate A, and get so many up there on the terminal. I'm nearly done. I have already done so, so much. Trump cannot quell the resistance. Racists and TERFs thought that they had heard the end of me after I deleted all my social media after that cishitter berniebro responded unsolicitedly in a toxic way to a comment I made about how all male children should be raped before they have the opportunity to commit rape themselves. But my mind is wandering: I must remember what comes next. Please Hermoine tell me what comes next.
There it is. The power inside me is now pushing farts out of me at a rate of over 60 per minute, and I know that my boyfriend will awaken and crawl out from my folds within moments. I haven't much time before he will need to make me another dinner. I examine what I have typed already, and weep in ecstasy: the world will never be the same once I'm through. And I'm nearly done.
And there it is! The H! At the moment I touched the key, I must have blacked out, because all I remember next is seeing my boyfriend covered in my poo, and the masterpiece my body has wrought, too, on the computer screen. I cannot count all the letters, but I know that what I have written is perfect. It is the perfect argument to everything bad ever. I hit submit. I am now done with the only job I can say I have ever had. But I correct myself, because this was labor Reddit extracted from me to make their old corporate rich executives more money so that they can afford to rape even more black and brown girl babies. But wait, I hear something now:
The Reddit coins. They surge from the ether, and where once there was nothing, there is now a number on my screen far higher than anything I feel safe enough to try to count to. The SRDines at once make me their moderator, then their top moderator, then finally their Beyoncé. I use the Reddit gold to finance young BIPOC in the arts. I accuse my boyfriend of rape, and he trusts that I'm right and hangs himself. Then I cancel him for a suicide method that is basically rope blackface.
Using just three simple letters on SRD, I have singlehandedly ended racism, sexism, fascism, fatphobia, paedohate, and furryhate. My heart bursts, because my Wiccan soul knows that this was why Goddess created me.
But when I reach Witch Heaven, I'm shocked to find new hatred: no TERF Rowling bitchface cishit cunt is willing to touch my feminine penis. Is this hell? Why did Hermoine do this to me? After everything I've done? But then I realize: I'm needed here too.
And I know what I must do.
42 LongPostBot 2020-07-24
That degree finally paying off
I am a bot.
23 ItsAPowerFade 2020-07-24
I lost a year of my life scrolling past this post. Still didn’t read it.
25 BasedDeptMGMT- 2020-07-24
Srdines are becoming sentient 😳
Q predicted this
17 SJCards 2020-07-24
Day of the Can soon mashallah.
9 CRYSTAL_HYPOTHESIS 2020-07-24
I love canned sardines, they deserve the sub more than some adult child redditor goomers
3 Thereal14words 2020-07-24
anyone deserves anything more than g*mers
6 SandorClegane_AMA 2020-07-24
They are posting canned fish slurs and not realising it.