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8/3/2025, 12:45:56 PM
>>512105991
>IMG_1713.jpg
I wake up at 5 a.m. to bust my ass in a warehouse, moving boxes for a paycheck that barely covers gas. Overworked and underpaid? That’s the slogan of my life. I’m 40 years old: no wife, no kids, no friends, no future. I’m still stuck in my childhood bedroom with my parents on the other side of a paper-thin wall. These are the same parents who spent my youth fighting about money, and now they wonder why I don’t have a family and not the CEO of Something-Important Inc.
Wages not keeping up with inflation is a cruel joke that keeps on giving. I once thought $15 an hour was decent; now $15 buys me half a sandwich. I’m sprinting on a treadmill to nowhere, lugging a 50-pound backpack of debt, and the treadmill’s on fire.
Meanwhile, a YouTuber that I follow and the closest I ever got to having relationship with a woman named Pan Piano makes $400k a year playing piano in lingerie and stupid anime cosplay. I’ve got calluses and back pain, and she’s earning a 30 years of experience doctor’s salary to play anime tunes in cosplay. I consider it a win if I can afford name-brand peanut butter this month.
Life set me up to fail from day one: my first experience was getting circumcised. They literally snipped off part of me before I could walk, as if the universe wanted me to know pain and loss right off the bat.
Moving out? Sure, I could pay half my income to rent a shoebox and sit alone among unpaid bills. It’d be the same misery, just with a landlord. At least here the disappointment comes with a free dinner.
I’m exhausted and bitter, the kind of anger you get from giving 110% for nothing. The funniest part? I still drag myself out of bed every morning to do it all over again, because what the hell else can I do? Life is a cruel joke, and apparently I’m the punchline. I wish my parents just threw me in the fucking dumpster after I was born.
>IMG_1713.jpg
I wake up at 5 a.m. to bust my ass in a warehouse, moving boxes for a paycheck that barely covers gas. Overworked and underpaid? That’s the slogan of my life. I’m 40 years old: no wife, no kids, no friends, no future. I’m still stuck in my childhood bedroom with my parents on the other side of a paper-thin wall. These are the same parents who spent my youth fighting about money, and now they wonder why I don’t have a family and not the CEO of Something-Important Inc.
Wages not keeping up with inflation is a cruel joke that keeps on giving. I once thought $15 an hour was decent; now $15 buys me half a sandwich. I’m sprinting on a treadmill to nowhere, lugging a 50-pound backpack of debt, and the treadmill’s on fire.
Meanwhile, a YouTuber that I follow and the closest I ever got to having relationship with a woman named Pan Piano makes $400k a year playing piano in lingerie and stupid anime cosplay. I’ve got calluses and back pain, and she’s earning a 30 years of experience doctor’s salary to play anime tunes in cosplay. I consider it a win if I can afford name-brand peanut butter this month.
Life set me up to fail from day one: my first experience was getting circumcised. They literally snipped off part of me before I could walk, as if the universe wanted me to know pain and loss right off the bat.
Moving out? Sure, I could pay half my income to rent a shoebox and sit alone among unpaid bills. It’d be the same misery, just with a landlord. At least here the disappointment comes with a free dinner.
I’m exhausted and bitter, the kind of anger you get from giving 110% for nothing. The funniest part? I still drag myself out of bed every morning to do it all over again, because what the hell else can I do? Life is a cruel joke, and apparently I’m the punchline. I wish my parents just threw me in the fucking dumpster after I was born.
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