/b/ - Random

>You will never be aesthetic. You are not a sick cunt, you are low-T without your PED's, you are a fraud. You are a man suffering from body dysmoprhia twisted by drugs and hormones into a crude mockery of nature’s perfection.

All the “mires” you get are two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mog you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at either your absurd or pathetic musculature behind closed doors.

Women are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed women to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even men who claim "natty” still look uncanny and strange to normal athletic people. Your musculature and rugged, overly aged face is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk woman home with you, she’ll turn tail and bolt the second she sees your roid-gut and acne ridden back and chest.

You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning, do your lifts and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the anxiety of early heart failure creeping up like a weed, ready to kill you under the unbearable weight, more so than your PR's.

Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy synthol, get a tourniqet, put it around your arm, and plunge into the abyss of true body dysmorphia. Your parents will find you dead at 30, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment of having a roidtranny for a son. They’ll bury you with a photograph of you on your headstone, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a frauder 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 was ngmi.

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