You will never be a mother. You have no fiancee, you have no lover, you have no boyfriend. You are a rejected schizo femcel filled with a horrible personality and terrible mental issues into a crude mockery of nature's perfection.
All the "love" you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back your friends fear you. Your mother focuses on your older, more humane sibling and deems you a lost cause, merry housewives laugh at your involuntary celibacy behind closed doors.
Men don't see you as a woman. Desperate orbiters would rather use your station and clout in order to appease your prettier gymnast friend than take a chance with your dry pussy. Even faceless ugly bastards steer clear from you. Your terrible haircut and mommy issues are dead giveaways of unladylikeness and instability. And even if you manage to get a drunk guy home with you, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he learns about your disgusting, pathetic, incest-filled fantasies.
You will never be happy. You blabber out verbal jabs at your brother's honor every single morning and take advantage of his kind nature to feel superior, but deep inside you feel the need to have his arms around you 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 brother will find you, heartbroken but relieved that he no longer has to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. He’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your unability to ever have a meaningful loved one, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a eternity cake 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 still virgin.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
