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7/21/2025, 8:10:39 AM
>>212985892
cute LARP, but you will never be a real Celt.
You have no Celtic language, you have no clan based society, you have no druids. You are a Latin man twisted by 19th century nationalism and ethno-centric nativism into a crude mockery of pre-Roman Western European perfection.
All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back Gaelics mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your we wuzzing behind closed doors.
Celtic men are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed Celtic men to sniff out Roman frauds with incredible efficiency. Even Latins who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a Celtic man. Your Romance language is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk celt home with you, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your Roman inspired, Napoleonic Civil Law legal system.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your French Latin birth name and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a Frenchman 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 is unmistakably Latin European.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
cute LARP, but you will never be a real Celt.
You have no Celtic language, you have no clan based society, you have no druids. You are a Latin man twisted by 19th century nationalism and ethno-centric nativism into a crude mockery of pre-Roman Western European perfection.
All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back Gaelics mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your we wuzzing behind closed doors.
Celtic men are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed Celtic men to sniff out Roman frauds with incredible efficiency. Even Latins who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a Celtic man. Your Romance language is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk celt home with you, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your Roman inspired, Napoleonic Civil Law legal system.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your French Latin birth name and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a Frenchman 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 is unmistakably Latin European.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
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