You are a Swiftie. Bitch, you live in Nevada. You are a poster. You need to give your fucking landlord the rent. Your fucking streaming services, you have 15 streaming services. You've never logged off. You literally just saw Drake’s penis. You've never worn a high-quality mask. Motherfucker, you have Long COVID. You are dying. You've had 40 Stanleys, 3 of them are lead-free. 2 of them got sold to a post-hipster thrift store.

Bitch, the greatest thing you can hope for is to die at the old age of 36. You fucking can't disengage. You don't know what self-care is. If you were transported into 1320, you would be the worst farmer of all time. You don't know shit. You literally probably don't even know what the direction 'left' is. I'm sure some contemporary guy is gonna get mad at me for this- Bitch, I’ve BEEN outside. I've watched the Super Bowl, which someone on my niche leftist forum probably calls the 'Pooper Bowel', which I think is a bad joke but a funny thing to call it.

Motherfucker, you gotta recognize where you are, and then you gotta get past that. You gotta be unemotional (and I know I’m not being a great display of that myself). You can't sink into your co-living rental. You live in an ugly cheap plastic apartment. Your job is to crawl up the ladder, motherfucker. You live in the POD. You're in the POD. You are a RAT. And the rat, when they’re in the pod gets FUCKED. People only doordash trash to the pod.

You know what you need to eat? You need to eat the rich! And you need to carry the virus. And you need to carry a virus around this whole world, that will change this whole fucking world. And all your enemies will vomit black bile and will choke on blood and will grow boils and die. But only if you get together with your other RATS. And you come up with some kind of super virus, to fucking end your enemies and END. THIS. NIGHTMARE.