I can almost see your pathetic overweight frame glowing in the dark, lit by your computer screen which is the only source of light in your room, giggling like a girl when you once again type your little Banana thread up and fill in the captcha. Or maybe you don’t even fill the captcha. Maybe you’re such a disgusting NEET that you actually paid for a 4chan pass, so you just choose the picture. Oh, and we all know the picture. The “epic” Banana guy, isn’t it? I imagine you little shit laughing as hard as you click it that you drop your Doritos on the floor, but it’s ok, your mother will clean it up in the morning. Oh, that’s right. Did I fail to mention? You live with your mother. You’re a fat fucking fuckup, she’s probably so sick of you already. So sick of having to do everything for you all goddamn day, every day, for a grown man who spends all his time on 4chan posting about a fucking banana. Just imagine this. She had you, and then she thought you were going to be a scientist or an astronaut or something grand, and then you became a NEET. A pathetic banana bag NEET. She probably cries herself to sleep everyday thinking about how bad it is and how she wishes she could just disappear. She can’t even try to talk to you because all you say is “I REALLY REALLY LIKE THIS PICTURE.” You’ve become a parody of your own self. And that’s all you are. A sad little man laughs in the dark by himself as he prepares to indulge in the same old dance that he’s done a million times now. And that’s all you’ll ever be.