Schlaganfall, für immer ungeliebt zu werden

Listen to me now, you miserable fucking loser. A lady can never truly love you. All the evidence you require is your pitiful pretext for a manhood. You are nothing more than a mound of mouldy cheese—a terrible excuse for a living thing. Furthermore, what do you know? To me, your life is just a pointless existence. Upon gazing at your reflection in the mirror, you will come to understand that this is the face of a guy who personifies failure. You are insignificant, a nobody. A powerless, lonely, and desperate man who would stop at nothing to win someone's love or even a small amount of approval. Furthermore, what do you know? Not even you deserve that. You believe that by looking for love, perhaps, just possibly, you can save yourself. That's precisely what you're doing—searching. You are the lost soul that is aimlessly cruising through life. You're too powerless and pitiful to actually do anything, therefore you're a one-way ticket to nowhere.