i am morrocan

[GabachoCopium]

im not morrocan

but deep in my heart i am

 

[incelconspiracy]

Are you a nigger?

 

[GabachoCopium]

Are you a nigger?

no

 

[GabachoCopium]

bump tbh

 

[Deleted member 41390]

bump tbh

@ihatereddit hes copying you hes copying you hes copying you

 

[GabachoCopium]

@ihatereddit hes copying you hes copying you hes copying you

tbh u should kys

i am a proud moroccansexual man bumping a good thread tbh

 

[The Grinch]

You will never be a real morrocan. You have no olive skin, you have no beard, you have no accent. You are a mentally ill man twisted by TikTok 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, morrocans laugh at your ghoulish appearance behind closed doors.

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 non-morrocan 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 caucasian.

 

[GabachoCopium]

You will never be a real morrocan. You have no olive skin, you have no beard, you have no accent. You are a mentally ill man twisted by TikTok 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, morrocans laugh at your ghoulish appearance behind closed doors.

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 non-morrocan 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 caucasian.

that’s tuff