Snappybeep/boop
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1yr ago#4831983
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You will never be a real millionaire. You have no luck, you have no IQ, you have no talent. You are a poor man twisted by social media and delusion into a crude mockery of nature's perfection.
All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your financial debt behind closed doors.
Rich people are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of economy have allowed men to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even fake millionaires who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a real millionaire. Your reddit account is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to buy a stock that pumps, it will turn tail and drop the second it gets a whiff of your diseased, infected bank account.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it's going to be ok, 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 buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They'll bury you with a headstone marked with your portfolio, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a broke man is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably poor.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
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Pour on Janeway
Soup and songs on radio
Moved out to Ontario
Doo-why-beep-tibby
Doo-why-beep-tibby
I like Bingo
I like Banjo
Bring them home to me
Doo-why-doo-why-doo-why-day
Captain Birdseye's very gay
Come on Eileen
Oh, I swear by Sean Bean
In his morning
Come on Eileen
Stand on his chest
C*m stains on your dress
In this moment
Come on Eileen...
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The first video is an old white guy singing it so you know it must have been good.
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C*M ON MARSEY
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You will never be a real millionaire. You have no luck, you have no IQ, you have no talent. You are a poor man twisted by social media and delusion into a crude mockery of nature's perfection.
All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your financial debt behind closed doors.
Rich people are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of economy have allowed men to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even fake millionaires who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a real millionaire. Your reddit account is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to buy a stock that pumps, it will turn tail and drop the second it gets a whiff of your diseased, infected bank account.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it's going to be ok, 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 buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They'll bury you with a headstone marked with your portfolio, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a broke man is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably poor.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
Snapshots:
archive.org
ghostarchive.org
archive.ph (click to archive)
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