Describe the person above you.
- Thread starter Hector
- Start date
Help Support Loneliness, Depression & Relationship Forum:
MisunderstoodVacancy
Well-known member
Hector was grimly melancholic because no one responded to his thread that was begun over a week ago. The midnight oil burned as he rubbed his hands together warily. Not a single solitary waking soul has grazed his finger over his keypad in even the faintest etching of a response. Days have passed and Hector is not getting any younger. Hector sits in his cloistered study, a thief in the night consumed by darkness as the days pass. Every so often Hector will take a pilgrimage to his castle's bathroom and resumes the ceremonial vigil of selfie gathering. Yet the value of a prince's selfie is all but extinguished if there exist no hordes of internet strangers to validate how ravenously sensual his new crown from Kay Jewlers looks. Oh how Hector yearns to be described by an anonymous internet stranger, to be drawn like one of the french girls of a husky adonis whose avatar was likely stolen from GQ, but my oh my can a lonely prince dream!
Returning to his den, Hector resumes his steady unending countdown to the reckoning. And still no one responded to his thread. Not a soul. It was like this thread was a newly awakened component of his identity that had inexplicably become lost, invisible, a ghost utterly consumed by the relentless interwebz. Hector curses the heavens for letting him fall into this acursed state.
Then suddenly, the pixellated screen that had laid vacant and lifeless for so long suddenly lit into life. But as Hector read this stranger's response, he became overpowered by a harrowing, almost divine incredulity. Covering his eyes, overwhelmed with shock, Hector concluded that this unknown stranger must be some kind of mysterious prophet. For all Hector's secrets lay bare, freshly exposed to the naked eye like open wounds.
And it the bottom of the pixellated scroll lay a final faintly scrawled parting message: "it's all part of a conspiracy Hector, the same conspiracy that started 9/11, it's the Penguins brainwashing all the innocent peasant bystanders of ALL to ignore your post of young glory. It is your destiny to expose the masked truth to the laypeople, if everyone member of ALL comments on this friend, the penguin's longstanding Reign of Terror faster than Obama's approval ratings. It is up to you Hector, to spread the word in this fallen and sinful land."
And after reading these last words Hector smiled at last. It has begun. He knew, he just knew, and every fiber of his being tingled with excitement at the reveletion. The sacred quest of yore. He felt a strange yet impenetrable bond with this mysterious stranger, wherever he may be, who risked life and limb to deliver him the message revealing the destiny of what he must do. Hector realized for the first time in his life that he was no longer alone. Hector knew that the tide had turned and it was not too late as he previously thought. Hector knew, with the unshakable faith of a warrior, that with this one simple post, a revolution was born, one that would shake the very landscape upon which he now stood and birth legendary martyrs whose namesakes would be used to sell car insurance in the ages to come...
It was only then that Hector could finally summon the courage to resume his rightful title as Prince of Nigeria
Returning to his den, Hector resumes his steady unending countdown to the reckoning. And still no one responded to his thread. Not a soul. It was like this thread was a newly awakened component of his identity that had inexplicably become lost, invisible, a ghost utterly consumed by the relentless interwebz. Hector curses the heavens for letting him fall into this acursed state.
Then suddenly, the pixellated screen that had laid vacant and lifeless for so long suddenly lit into life. But as Hector read this stranger's response, he became overpowered by a harrowing, almost divine incredulity. Covering his eyes, overwhelmed with shock, Hector concluded that this unknown stranger must be some kind of mysterious prophet. For all Hector's secrets lay bare, freshly exposed to the naked eye like open wounds.
And it the bottom of the pixellated scroll lay a final faintly scrawled parting message: "it's all part of a conspiracy Hector, the same conspiracy that started 9/11, it's the Penguins brainwashing all the innocent peasant bystanders of ALL to ignore your post of young glory. It is your destiny to expose the masked truth to the laypeople, if everyone member of ALL comments on this friend, the penguin's longstanding Reign of Terror faster than Obama's approval ratings. It is up to you Hector, to spread the word in this fallen and sinful land."
And after reading these last words Hector smiled at last. It has begun. He knew, he just knew, and every fiber of his being tingled with excitement at the reveletion. The sacred quest of yore. He felt a strange yet impenetrable bond with this mysterious stranger, wherever he may be, who risked life and limb to deliver him the message revealing the destiny of what he must do. Hector realized for the first time in his life that he was no longer alone. Hector knew that the tide had turned and it was not too late as he previously thought. Hector knew, with the unshakable faith of a warrior, that with this one simple post, a revolution was born, one that would shake the very landscape upon which he now stood and birth legendary martyrs whose namesakes would be used to sell car insurance in the ages to come...
It was only then that Hector could finally summon the courage to resume his rightful title as Prince of Nigeria
