You will never be a real evolution. You have no balance, you have no good designs, you have no clear theming You are a shillmon gimmick twisted by merchandising and Morimoto into a crude mockery of tokusatsu’s perfection. All the “validation” you get is two-faced and underaged. Behind your back people mock you. GF are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your overdesigned appearance behind closed doors. Comp players are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed men to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even megas who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a man. Your spikes are a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk guy home with you, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your unbalanced, infected stone. You will never be happy. You wrench out a AMV 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 Dynamax Band, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold Black Hole Eclips. GF will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to shill with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a megastone marked with your base name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a pokemon is buried there. Your mechanic will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a pokemon that is clearly 3 stages.