The Grinch
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- Joined
- Aug 10, 2022
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@wsada
You will never be Ronaldo. You have no talent, you have no money, you have no fame. You are a homosexual man twisted by schizophrenia and surgery 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. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your ghoulish appearance behind closed doors. Soccer-fans are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed people to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Your bone structure is a dead giveaway. 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 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, 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 birth name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a cheap Ronaldo wannabe is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably not Ronaldo. This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
You will never be Ronaldo. You have no talent, you have no money, you have no fame. You are a homosexual man twisted by schizophrenia and surgery 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. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your ghoulish appearance behind closed doors. Soccer-fans are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed people to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Your bone structure is a dead giveaway. 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 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, 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 birth name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a cheap Ronaldo wannabe is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably not Ronaldo. This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
