You will never be a functioning member of society. You have no empathy, you have no tact, and you have no sense. You are a neckbeard living in his mother's basement.

All the “redpills” you get are two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your ghoulish appearance behind closed doors.

Women are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed women to sniff out rightoids with remarkable efficiency. Even incels who know how to use deodorant feel uncanny and unnatural to a woman. Your fedora is a dead giveaway. And even if you get a drunk chick home with you, she'll turn tail and bolt the second she gets a whiff of your diseased, infected facial hair.

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 anger 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 rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and smell of cum. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your name , and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a loser is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the cheeto dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably obese.