Hey fed, I know you're here.
You will never be a real fed. You have no respect, you have no influence, you have nothing. You are a wannabe twisted by internet and power abuse 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 because you are a deadweight in your own team. Coworkers are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your noncery fedposting behind closed doors.
Even your online department are utterly repulsed by you. Years of practice have allowed kiwi farms to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even digital miners who “work” there mock your unnatural activities. Your job structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to post a bait, you’ll be banned and ostracized.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok before going to work and review pages of shitposting for a living during hours again, 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 hanged in the room while your computer screen displays Nikocado Avocado buthole's for the 100th time of the day, 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 faggot name, probably Lawrence, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know an excuse of a man is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a failed professional who worked as a fed wannabe.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
