>>512341921
I’m 26, still living at home because I can’t even afford rent on my slave wage job. My parents remind me every day how pathetic that is, like I don’t already wake up every morning with a pit in my stomach. “Work harder,” they say. “Get more hours.” As if I’m not already grinding 10-hour shifts like a dog just to barely afford gas and instant noodles. Like slaving away harder is suddenly going to magically spawn affordable housing or a livable wage. Delusional.

And then there’s Pan Piano. This woman has life handed to her on a velvet platter because she was born with tits and figured out how to weaponize them. That’s literally it. She puts on a sexy Nezuko cosplay, half her chest hanging out, sits at a piano, barely moves her hands, and somehow that’s worth millions. No speaking, no charisma, no effort beyond squeezing into a costume and pressing a few keys.

She doesn’t even have to engage with people. Just films a cleavage shot with some anime tune playing and the simps line up to throw money at her like she’s a goddess. Meanwhile, I’m treated like human garbage by customers, my boss, and my own family—and what do I get in return? Less than nothing. A life that’s going nowhere. My only “luxury” is sleeping in a bedroom I haven’t redecorated since middle school.

Why does she get everything for doing nothing? Why is she celebrated for just existing while I’m told I’m not trying hard enough, not doing enough, not being enough?

I’m so bitter I can taste it. I don’t even hate her because she’s successful. I hate that she gets to coast while people like me are treated like burdens for simply surviving.

This world rewards surface-level bullshit and punishes effort unless you’re already pretty or connected. There’s no justice, no fairness. Just Pan Piano living in luxury for shaking her tits in cosplay while I rot under fluorescent lights for crumbs and get told “you just need to work harder.”

>>512110929
Okay so here’s the deal. I turned 40 back in August. Bald. Like completely bald. My scalp is so shiny now it reflects the screen back at me when I watch YouTube in the dark. I haven’t touched a woman in over a decade unless you count accidentally brushing the cashier’s hand at Aldi.

Anyway. I’m deep in a depressive spiral one night, sipping flat Diet Dr. Pepper and scrolling through anime covers. Suddenly YouTube recommends me Pan Piano. If you don’t know who that is, imagine Chopin reincarnated as a busty Taiwanese woman cosplaying 2B and somehow mastering the ancient art of sideboob.

It was like God reached through the screen and slapped me in the face with a very jiggly miracle.

I signed up for her Patreon immediately. Not even thinking. $110 tier. “Just to see what it’s about.” Total impulse. No big deal, right?

Fast forward 8 months.

I’ve given her nearly FOUR GRAND.

And not even through Patreon. No, I used most of it on YouTube super chats like a full-on brain-damaged simp. Dropping $100 a stream just to say “Nice playing!” in a sea of other degenerates. She never responded. She never even acknowledged me. At one point I think she laughed — not at a joke, but at my existence.

I told myself it was for “supporting the arts.” My bank account says otherwise.

Do you know what $4,000 could buy? A used car. A flight to Thailand to die in peace. A lifetime supply of ramen. Hair plugs, probably. Therapy, definitely.

Instead I have 8 months of footage of a woman who doesn’t know I exist dressed as anime girls playing songs from Genshin Impact.

I emailed her asking if I could get a refund because I was “in a bad place emotionally.” No reply. Not even an emoji. I tried telling YouTube I had “a mental health episode.” They told me to contact law enforcement if I feel unsafe. I AM unsafe. Unsafe from my own choices.