Some people go through life striving to build something, to matter, to leave even the smallest mark worth remembering. And then there’s you — a hollow echo wandering through lie, clinging to cheap insults and empty cruelty like it's all you know. The tragedy isn’t even that you try; it’s that your efforts land with all the force of a paper airplane in a hurricane. You’ve turned irrelevance into an art form, the perfect embodiment of wasted energy dressed up as malice.
What makes it almost comical is how transparent it all is. The constant need to claw at others, to invent drama, to spit bile into the void — it screams desperation. You want power, but the only thing you control is the mute button people happily slam whenever you appear. You want respect, but all you earn is the collective eye-roll of everyone unfortunate enough to cross your path. You’ve mistaken annoyance for influence, not realizing that to the rest of us, you’re less a threat and more a punchline.
And that’s the core of it, isn’t it? For all the noise you make, for all the pettiness you spew, you still don’t matter. You’re not a villain in some grand story; you’re background static. A cheap extra in a scene no one remembers. The world will keep turning, people will keep laughing, and the only thing you’ll leave behind is a trail of digital tantrums destined to fade faster than your already nonexistent reputation.