Perhaps this is an odd comparison to make, but when I think actual pornsick weirdos, they don't talk like Kevin. Even promiscuous village bicycles on Twitter don't act like Kevin. Pornsick weirdos talk about whatever weird porn they're watching, or the latest weird fetish crap they gained, or what latest website they subscribed to is. Twitter thots talk about their awful experiences, post another suggestive photos to add onto the countless pile, or try to hijack any trend to sell their porn.
Kevin is a pornsick weirdo, and he thinks he acts like a Twitter thot, but the truth is neither talk at length as to how their genitals totally work, you guys, and it only took three hours to climax. The former will whine that they're ejaculating blood and the latter complains about catching an undiscovered venereal disease, but they never feel the need to make up explanations for why these things happen to them. Kevin does this on almost a weekly basis solely, and I do mean solely to cope and prompt his followers to play pretend with him.
I don't know, it's just hard to quantify with words. If I was missing a limb and was excited to get a prosthetic with full articulation, I'd talk about it for maybe a month and then stop because it's just my normal, now. Kevin's life is constantly obsessing over whether or not his mutilated pecker still works. Even people who marry the love of their life from childhood eventually shut up about it, so I don't buy the excuse that he's finally achieved his lifelong dream of being a genderblob shaped like a refrigerator. He's in a constant state of denial, and he has to talk about how great it is, and only to fool himself and nobody else. That's his hobby, next to buying toys and sucking at video games. I know this isn't a groundbreaking observation, but I still wonder how long he can keep it up, because it's a war of attrition against the eternal foe of reality.
