>>9733557You will never be a real Toa of Water. You have no elemental powers, you have no increased lung capacity, you have no blue pieces. You are a homosexual Matoran twisted by virus and painted pieces into a crude MoC pretending to mimick nature’s perfection.
All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back the Universe mocks you. The Great Beigns are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “brothers” laugh at your Zyglak-like appearance behind closed doors.
Matoran are utterly repulsed by you. A hundred thousands of years of programming have allowed Matoran to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even trannies who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a Matoran. Your broad Inika build is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk Le-Matoran home with you, he’ll turn tail and wind-fly the second he gets a quick-whiff of your diseased, infected axle wound.
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 in your soul 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 get a one-way ticket to the Red Star. Your Koro's Turaga will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your Naming Day name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a male Matoran is buried there. Your sockets will crack and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a protodermis shell that is unmistakably male.
This is your Destiny. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
