You will never be Tony Soprano. You have no money, you have no friends, you have no future. You are a homosexual pig twisted by drugs and A-lawgs into a crude mockery of natures perfection.
All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. People mock you, punch you and call you a faggot to your face. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your ghoulish appearance behind closed doors.
Women are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed women to sniff out rape pigs with incredible efficiency. Even trailer park trannies consider you as disgusting subhuman filth. Your pig face and rotten gunt is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a groom a 14 year old, he/she will turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your diseased, infected gunt.
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, multitude of diseases, crippling debt, beat downs, litany of rape and pedophile police cases 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, relieved but then heartbroken as the unbearable weight of your pig gunt brought down the roof of your trailer hitch. They’ll finish the job with a mallet like the pig you are that is if you aren't lynched after getting caught in a pedo catfish, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a subhuman pig is buried there because of the unbearable stench. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a gunt that is unmistakably inhuman.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
