You have no drive, you are a cheater, you have no genetics. You are a roidchud twisted by needles and vials into a crude mockery of natures perfection.
All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Gymgoers are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “gymbros” laugh at your ghoulish appearance behind closed doors.
Men are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed men to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even roiders who dont have gyno look uncanny and unnatural to a man. Your bone structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to put on some muscle it all going to come off once you stop pinning your needles.
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 steroids, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a roidchud 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 natural.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.