TreeFortRichardsTCell
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Oct 16, 2021
You really think he'd find a strong enough rope. More likely it'd break and they'd find him on the cold floor, an embarrassing failure at yet another thing he attempted.You will never get your checkmark back. You have no blue tick, you have no accreditation, you have no entry to the inner circle of the Twitocracy. You are a failed writer twisted by alcohol and high-fructose corn syrup into a crude mockery of Jack Dorsey’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 failure to confirm your identity behind closed doors.
Freelancers for Vice are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed reporters to sniff out fake accounts with incredible efficiency. Even unverified accounts who are “linked” to real people look uncanny and unnatural to a reporter. Your repetitive insult structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk journalist interested in Gamergate 2.0, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your diseased, infected lack of a case.
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 Type 2 Diabetes creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under your already 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 “Patrick S. Tomlinson” next to headstones marked “Patrick S.TomlLnson”, Patrick S. Tolminson” and “Partick S. Tomlinson”, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will have no idea where the real Patrick S. Tomlinson is buried. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably anonymous.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.