You will never be Japanese. You have no native accent, you have no Japanese blood, you have no patriatic loyalty. You are a foreign man twisted by memes into a crude mockery of nature’s perfection.

All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are dishonored and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your shameful display behind closed doors.

The Japanese are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed them to sniff out gaijins with incredible efficiency. Even gaijin who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to the Japanese. Your bone structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk Japanese person to hang out with you, they'll turn tail and bolt the second they get a whiff of your unnatural accent.

You will never be happy. You wrench out an お早う！ 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 katana, sit in the seiza position, unsheathe your sword, then plunge it into your abdomen and fall into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and dishonor. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a non-Japanese 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 foreign.

This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.