You will never be a real shitposter. You have no memes, you have no bans, you have no moderator telling you how much they hate you. You are a homosexual man twisted by power and mod tools into a crude mockery of the internet’s perfection.
All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back chat mocks you. Your streamer is disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your ghoulish appearance behind closed doors.
Shitposters are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed shitposters to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even jannies who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a shitposter. Your sentence structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk shitposter home with you, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your chat badge.
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 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 disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your birth name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a janny 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 a janny.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.