You will never be an elf. You have no ancestry, you have no blood, you have no ears that would make elves ever see you as such. You are a shut-in self-hating Imperial twisted by delusions of mythical elven superiority and exposure to elvish propaganda into a disgusting mockery of Shor's perfection.
All 'validation' you get from other people in this position couldn't be worse in making you believe that spending precious years of your life wishing you were a nihilistic knife-eared race was a worthwhile use of your time, but one can't expect that an individual as pathetic as you will ever know the value of the youth you threw away in doing that.
Actual elves are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of physiological evolution have allowed mer to identify frauds from mannerisms and vocabulary alone. Even if your written text of self-hatred and attention begging akin to a stray dog's somehow passes as normal (it won't), any elf will immediately cut all ties when they hear the voice and accent of someone who is not only a better looking monkey at best, but with the lifespan of a drop of piss, no knife ears, and no air of unwarranted self-importance.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile and laugh to yourself believing that obsessing over a knife-ear that you understand 20% of at best is somehow superior than thinking about your own kind, as you project your disgusting traits onto your entire kind. However, deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight, and you know that. You know that all you do now is have an entirely new linguistic medium in which to be ignored, and not even the exotic trait of being foreign makes up for just how uninteresting of a person you are.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into Coldharbour ( Clavicus Vile traded your soul to Molag Bal in hopes it would make your stupid fucking wishes to him stop). Your parents will find you, heartbroken but praising Talos that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your birth name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a man is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably human.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back. Hate yourself and apologize for being Imperial, Breton, or Nord (no chance you're a Redguard. That would be cooning and Redguards don't coon.) to some elvish entity that exists only in your mind while actual elves put in the serious effort to learn and accept the Divines for the valid reason of it being the truth.
