/pol/ - International /Pol/itics & /Bant/er

You will never be white. You have no blue eyes, you have no blond hair, you have too much melanin. You are a brown shitskin subhuman twisted by the internet and jewish psyops into a crude mockery of nature's circus monkey.

All the "validation" you get is 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.

Aryans are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed men to go from shitskin niggers into quartzskin aryans. Even pajeets, niggers, or spics who "pass" look uncanny and unnatural to a man. Your bone structure is a dead giveaway. No matter how much skin bleaching cream you apply onto yourself, how expensive your blue contact lenses are, or how realistic your blond wig is, people will turn tail and bolt the second they get a whiff of your diseased, swarthy body odor.

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 shitskin 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 indian.

This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.