Wow, what a very interesting and not at all retarded struggle session about... *checks notes*... being a woman on Kiwi Farms.
You will never be real men. You have no backbone, you have no testosterone, you have no balls. You are a homosexual men twisted by blackpills and entitlement 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 FAGTOW talk points behind closed doors.
Women are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed women to sniff out entitled pansies with incredible efficiency. Even imcels who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a man. Your supreme gentleman appearance is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk girl home with you, she’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your diseased, infected personality.
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 in a grave without a wife next to you, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a virgin 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 soy.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
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