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as a toy collector, I am supposed to live, with the fact that I will NEVER, NEVER have the chance to even kiss such aryan goddess of beauty, or to hold hands with, even less to share my toys with her, and spend my whole life with her, in real happiness
instead, I will remain alone for 40 years, and I'm forced to love, knowing that this angel married and is fucking a 5/10 beaner uglier than me, I'm forced to live knowing this fact, every single moment I must remember that while I'm here alone, a fucking monkey is touching this beautiful princess, and more than that, having a good life with her, sharing the greatest hobby of all, toy collecting, with her
and I must know that fact, every single fay of my life, until I hang myself
this is how I live, this is how I die
