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You will never own a toilet. You have no social standing, you have no money, you have no bobs of vegenes to play with. You are an unhygienic man twisted by curry, feces and urine into a crude mockery of nature's perfection.
All the "good mornings!" you get are two faced and half hearted. Behind your back, people mock you. Your street shitting buddies are disgusted and ashamed of you, your "bloody bastards" laugh at you behind their closed doors.
Toilets are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of technology and science have allowed toilets to flush with incredible efficiency. Even Indians who "shit in a toilet" look uncanny and unnatural to a seasoned plumber. Your E.coli ridden feces is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to find a toilet in a bathroom, the toilet itself will turn tail and bolt the second it gets a whiff of your diseased, curry smelling anus.
You will never be able to shit without someone watching and judging. You wrench out a few meager "good mornings" at the start of the day and tell yourself it's going to be ok but deep down inside you feel the shit you hide creeping up like a weed, ready to rush out of your anus as your cheeks try to hold the unbearable weight.
Eventually it will become too much to bear, you'll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, scam a cryptofag and redeem yourself into the cold abyss. Your bastards will find you, heartbroken but relieved they no longer have to live with the unbearable stench you brought to their designated shitting street. They'll bury you without toilet paper, and every passerby for the rest if eternity will know a street shitting pajeet is buried here. Your remaining shit will decay and go back to the dust and all that will remain of your pathetic life is a "good morning" text that was never opened.
