You will never be a real Pikachu. You have no tail, you have no cheeks, you're not even an electric-type. You are a ghostly Pokémon twisted by rare candies and gimmicks into a crude mockery of nature’s perfection.

All the “praise” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back trainers mock you. Your Ditto is disgusted and ashamed of you, your “trainer” laugh at your ghoulish appearance while you rot inside the PC.

Trainers are utterly repulsed by you. Dozens of years of Pokémon evolution have allowed them to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even Mimikyus who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a trainer. Your shadowy structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a rookie to catch you, he’ll wonder trade you the second he gets a whiff of your rotting, termite infested "tail".

You will never be fully EV trained. You draw out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be OK, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like an iron ball, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.