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Imagine being some rapper scrolling Instagram and having to be all like "damn, Harland, you finna drippin, all fitted with your lumpy body and lesbian progeria face. I would totally post three flames emojis underneath this photo, even if your mother wasn’t my PR rep." when all he really wants to do is fuck another 16 year old in his dressing room. Like seriously imagine having to be the latest major label Soundcloud rapper and not only pretend you have watched any wrestling since 2004 while Harland flaunts his embarrassing low-rent hypebeast fashion sense on the internet, the favorable lighting barely concealing his chicken thighs and gormless expression, and just post replies, pic after pic , fit after fit, while he takes another selfie. Not only having to tolerate his deformed skullshape but his haughty attitude as everyone on social media says HE FINNA BE A STAR and SHEESH because they're not the ones who have to sit there and reply to every fucking “what I’m wearing today” madlib of low-end clothes brands you didn’t even know existed before that day. You've been creeping into the DMs of nothing but a healthy diet of fat white girls with daddy issues your ENTIRE CAREER coming straight out of the hood. You've never even seen anything this fucking disgusting before, and now you swear you can taste the sweat that's breaking out on his HGH skull as he tries desperately to pull a menacing face into the camera, smugly assured that he will one day be “the new Brock Lesnar”and headline wrestlemania, rather than be stuck on NXT for two years until Vince calls him up to the main roster to dance with Akira Tozawa for a fortnight. And then his mother calls for another response, and you know you could kill every single person in this room before the record company security could put you down, but you sit there and post another flame emoji, because you're a rapper. You're not going to lose your recording contract over this. Just bear it. Hide your face and bear it.
