You will never be a real ethnic group. You have no identity. You have no non-corporate unique traditions. Your founding myth is the repudiation of your people's heritage. You are an Anglo-Saxon man twisted by centuries of unfiltered immigration into a crude mockery of nature’s perfection.
All the “international cooperation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back nations mock you. Your economic peers are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “allies” laugh at your ghoulish appearance behind closed doors.
Europeans are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed people to sniff out mutts with incredible efficiency. Even yanks who “pass” as a European national look uncanny and unnatural to people of their respective “homelands”. Your complexion is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a country to sign a trade agreement, they’ll turn tail and bolt the second they get a whiff of your depraved, woke cultural imperialism.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself that “white” is a real ethnic identity, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like the proportion of white latinos, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll lose all patriotism, fall into terminal social decline, suffer a coup, and plunge into another civil war. The countries of your forebears 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 the thirteen stripes, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a failed set of colonies are buried there. Your state apparatus will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a people that are unmistakably mixed.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.