Anonymous
ID: Ls61o9GZ
6/16/2025, 2:52:50 PM No.507585682
Discovered Teto at twelve years old, back when YouTube autoplay was the wild west and you could go from a Minecraft parody to a screechy pink-haired UTAU cover in two clicks. My first thought was, “what the hell is this,” and then—suddenly—I was in love. Not in the cute “cartoon crush” way, but the embarrassing, terminal kind of love that stains your brain like Gatorade powder on cheap carpet.
Overnight, puberty becomes Teto’s greatest hits on loop. Sex ed? Irrelevant. I’m busy downloading every weird MMD video featuring Teto and pretending I understand Japanese. When the other kids are sneaking peeks at lingerie ads, I’m drawing Teto in the margins of my math homework like a fevered Victorian with tuberculosis.
High school comes, and I’m still here—watching fan PVs, hoarding meme songs, pirating UTAU banks like some degenerate. Friends talk about girlfriends. I’m terrified someone will see my phone background (Teto in a suit, Teto in a swimsuit, Teto as a literal loaf of bread). Every time I try to talk to a girl, I end up comparing her to a fictional chimera with drills for hair and a voice like a dial-up modem. Sexuality? Molded around the world’s most obscure Japanese meme idol. Real women? Feels like watching a movie in a language I never learned.
By college, it’s beyond parody. I can’t socialize—every attempt at conversation reroutes to some deranged internal monologue about Teto’s canon lore or whether I should buy the 1/7 scale figurine with my rent money. Tinder? Deleted in two days. Porn? If it’s not pink hair and twin drills, it’s a total miss. Sometimes I worry I’m the only person in history whose adolescence was destroyed by an April Fool’s joke.
Therapist says I have “attachment issues.” What I hear: “no one else will ever compare to a 31MB ZIP file you downloaded in 2011.” At this point, even Teto would probably bully me.
Why did this happen to me?
Overnight, puberty becomes Teto’s greatest hits on loop. Sex ed? Irrelevant. I’m busy downloading every weird MMD video featuring Teto and pretending I understand Japanese. When the other kids are sneaking peeks at lingerie ads, I’m drawing Teto in the margins of my math homework like a fevered Victorian with tuberculosis.
High school comes, and I’m still here—watching fan PVs, hoarding meme songs, pirating UTAU banks like some degenerate. Friends talk about girlfriends. I’m terrified someone will see my phone background (Teto in a suit, Teto in a swimsuit, Teto as a literal loaf of bread). Every time I try to talk to a girl, I end up comparing her to a fictional chimera with drills for hair and a voice like a dial-up modem. Sexuality? Molded around the world’s most obscure Japanese meme idol. Real women? Feels like watching a movie in a language I never learned.
By college, it’s beyond parody. I can’t socialize—every attempt at conversation reroutes to some deranged internal monologue about Teto’s canon lore or whether I should buy the 1/7 scale figurine with my rent money. Tinder? Deleted in two days. Porn? If it’s not pink hair and twin drills, it’s a total miss. Sometimes I worry I’m the only person in history whose adolescence was destroyed by an April Fool’s joke.
Therapist says I have “attachment issues.” What I hear: “no one else will ever compare to a 31MB ZIP file you downloaded in 2011.” At this point, even Teto would probably bully me.
Why did this happen to me?
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