回复： 左蛆，逻辑
You will never be a real woman. You have no womb, you have no ovaries, you have no eggs. You are a homosexual man, twisted by drugs and surgery into a crude mockery of nature’s perfection. 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. Men are utterly repulsed by you.
Thousands of years of evolution have allowed men to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even trannies who passlook uncanny and unnatural to a man. Your bone structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk guy home with you, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your diseased, infected axe wound. You will never be happy.
You rinch out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be okay but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you, under the unbearable weight. Eventually, it will be too hard to bear. You’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, tie 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 will bury with a headstone marked with your birth name and every passer-by 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 unmistakenly male. This is your fate, this is what you choose. There is no turning back.
Thousands of years of evolution have allowed men to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even trannies who passlook uncanny and unnatural to a man. Your bone structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk guy home with you, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your diseased, infected axe wound. You will never be happy.
You rinch out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be okay but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you, under the unbearable weight. Eventually, it will be too hard to bear. You’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, tie 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 will bury with a headstone marked with your birth name and every passer-by 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 unmistakenly male. This is your fate, this is what you choose. There is no turning back.