There he is. There he goes again. Look, everyone! He posted it once again! Isn't he just the funniest guy around?! Oh my God.
I can almost see your pathetic overweight frame glowing in the dark, lit by your computer screen which is the only source of light in your room, giggling like a like girl as you once again type your little black thread up and click the "post thread" button. Or maybe you don't even click. Maybe you're such a disgusting NEET that you actually browse this site on your smartphone, so you press it with your thumb instead. Oh, and we all know the thread. The "epic" dogpill, isn't it? I imagine you little shit laughing so hard as you click it that you drop your Doritos on the floor, but it's ok, your mother will clean it up in the morning. Oh, that's right. Did I fail to mention? You live with your mother. You are a fat fucking fuckup, she's probably so sick of you already. So sick of having to do everything for you all goddamn day, every day, for a grown man who spends all his time on incels.co posting about Tinder. Just imagine this. She had you, and then she thought you were gonna be a scientist or an astronaut or something grand, and then you became a NEET. A pathetic incel NEET. She probably cries herself to sleep everyday thinking about how bad it is and how she wishes she could just disappear. She can't even try to talk with you because all you say is "IT'S OVER IT'S OVER IT'S OVER." You've become a parody of your own self. And that's all you are. A sad little man laughing in the dark by himself as he prepares to indulge in the same old dance that he's done a million times now. And that's all you'll ever be.
I can almost see your pathetic overweight frame glowing in the dark, lit by your computer screen which is the only source of light in your room, giggling like a like girl as you once again type your little black thread up and click the "post thread" button. Or maybe you don't even click. Maybe you're such a disgusting NEET that you actually browse this site on your smartphone, so you press it with your thumb instead. Oh, and we all know the thread. The "epic" dogpill, isn't it? I imagine you little shit laughing so hard as you click it that you drop your Doritos on the floor, but it's ok, your mother will clean it up in the morning. Oh, that's right. Did I fail to mention? You live with your mother. You are a fat fucking fuckup, she's probably so sick of you already. So sick of having to do everything for you all goddamn day, every day, for a grown man who spends all his time on incels.co posting about Tinder. Just imagine this. She had you, and then she thought you were gonna be a scientist or an astronaut or something grand, and then you became a NEET. A pathetic incel NEET. She probably cries herself to sleep everyday thinking about how bad it is and how she wishes she could just disappear. She can't even try to talk with you because all you say is "IT'S OVER IT'S OVER IT'S OVER." You've become a parody of your own self. And that's all you are. A sad little man laughing in the dark by himself as he prepares to indulge in the same old dance that he's done a million times now. And that's all you'll ever be.
