Hey, Anon. I feel so, so sorry about your situation that I decided that I would be creative for you. Stay safe, baby. :'^(
A young man sits alone on a pink bed in a rent-free room provided by his girlfriend's parents. He idly taps away at the phone he stole and laments the death of his culture and his race by the hands of ungrateful, thieving minorities. A knock is heard at the door. "Come in," he says. His girlfriend enters the room. "Hey, Anon," She says as the swings her backpack from her shoulders, "Are you used to my bed yet? I know I've worn a groove in it that can be a little uncomfortable. I've had it for a long time." Anon drops his phone next to him and sighs. "I care more about living in this room full of pink shit."
"It's better than the streets or an abusive home, Anon," she laughed.
Anon felt himself getting irritated. His girlfriend always talked down to him like he was her brother. Hell, he might as well have been. Her parents kept a close watch on them when they're together. He couldn't see them then, but soon they'd probably come to tell them that the chicken tenders were done and that they should come eat or something similar.
"You're welcome to buy a new comforter, though," she added. "You know I don't have any money," He replied. He knew exactly where this conversation was going. "You could always pick up a job," she said.
"You know they'd never hire me."
"No I don't. Why wouldn't they hire you"
Anon knew that she was trying to bait out the answer from him. He was tired of it all and decided to give her exactly what she wanted.
"Don't play oblivious! It's because I'm white!" he said as he stared her in her eyes. He wanted to never have to tell her this obvious answer again. Her college was blinding her with its liberal propaganda. It was even destroying her art. He desperately wanted to shake her out of their trance, but it seemed the more he tried to redpill her, the more she seemed to resent his truths.
TO BE CONCLUDED