You will never be a real journalist. You have no credibility, you have no authority, you will never "speak truth to power". You are an idealistic idiot twisted by old stories and propaganda into a crude mockery of a true journalist.

All the "validation" you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your "friends" laugh at your corporate-sponsored propaganda and buzzfeed-tier filler articles behind closed doors.

Normal people are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years philosophy and dialectic have allowed readers to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even journalists who are "credible" look ridiculous and dishonest. Your writing style is a dead giveaway. Even if you manage to get a reader past the headline, he'll turn tail and run the second he gets a whiff of the biased, unethical drivel you call a "story."

You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every morning 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 birth name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a propagandist and a fraud 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 not a journalist.

This is your fate. This is what you chose. You still have to pay off the debt for your fake "journalism" degree. There is no turning back.