Popular Copypastas

At the beginning of this month, my boyfriend received an email from his brother with the subject "Dude check this out" and a Google Doc called "!!NEW RAP!!". When my boyfriend opened it, all that was on the doc was a picture of Nikocado Avocado’s asshole. When my boyfriend texted his brother about receiving his email, he replied "what email?". They’ve been going back and forth since about the email, my boyfriend’s brother saying he never sent an email and my boyfriend thinking he’s keeping up the act. What my boyfriend doesn’t know is I sent the email. I made an almost identical looking email, one letter off, and even managed to find the exact email profile picture from his brother’s LinkedIn. Now it kills me every time I see them go at it. I’m literally pissing myself as I write this.

That's right. I am the IMPOSTER. I just killed my boss. I now had to convince everyone that I wasn't the imposter. "Chad is the imposter!" I randomly yelled out. Another coworker said "Well, I did see him running towards the stairs/elevator. "Wait, think about this!" Chad stated. "How do you know I'm the murderer? It could be him!" "Hmm.." My coworker, John, said. "Why do you think it's him, Darrius?" "Well," I started, "The same reason as you. I saw him running towards the elevator when the killing happened. "Wait, wait, wait!" Angelica proclaimed. "How do we know it happened on the top floor?" Another coworker, Adam, pointed out the window towards the paramedics wrapping up my boss' mangled corpse in a body bag." Oh!" Angelica said." That's a bit sussy," I said. "I think it must have been Angelica, she's pretending she doesn't know anything?" "Hmm, you might be right." My coworker Dave spoke up. "But I think that it might be you, Darrius." "Wait woah woah, why is it me?" I defended myself. He said "I saw you enter the elevator right before the murderer hit!" He said. Shit. he's onto me." Woah, you could be lying! I was in my cubicle doing my office work!" I yelled back." Oh really, what were you doing?" Dave said." I was uh.. scanning for viruses on my computer!" "Hmm.. okay." "I think that we should get rid of Liam." Angelica proclaimed. "Woah woah woah, pretty lady! Why do you think that?" He quickly hopped to his defense. "I haven't been a part of this discussion at all!" "Well, you're pale, and you work on the closest floor to the boss." Angelica replies. "Yeah, that's sus, Liam." I said. "We should get rid of him." "I agree." Chad said." Me too!" Adam said." Me three!" John said. And so we decided to throw him out the window.

If Morbius has a trillion fans I am one of them. If Morbius has 10 fans I am one of them. If Morbius has no fans, that I means I am no longer on Earth. If the Universe is against Morbius, I am against the Universe. I love Morbius until my last breath.

Imagine, 700 years in the future, through some last vestige of the internet kept in an underground server, a notification miraculously appears on your device (which has been preserved in nuclear dust from the 5th world war). One night, an alien working a late shift at the museum of archeology notices the cracked screen suddenly light up, and upon it, one word arises from the battered code: Amogus. They do not know what this word means. They ponder it deeply. They scour the ancient tomes, desperate to understand its mystifying origin. It drives them mad. Is it a primeval cipher? The motto of a bygone civilization? A message from God? Night after night they study it by candlelight. They flip through pages in books so old, the slightest cough would turn the paper to a fine off-white powder. The answer is nowhere to be found. And then they are struck by a revelation: I was not meant to know this word. Its esoteric nature escapes my grasp for a reason. What if its meaning is too enlightening to bear? With this revelation comes anger. Spite. Despair. Why shouldn't I understand it?! What cosmic forces are there at play to keep me from such knowledge?! In a fit of desperate rage, they shatter your device against a wall and exclaim, arms raised to the heavens: "This is literally 1984!" Silence... Their pleas are unanswered. Sadly, in the end, their inability to unlock the word's meaning drives them to suicide. Its secrets are never known. So I ask you this: is it better to die having never understood the true mind-bending nature of Amogus, or to be driven mad by the little spaceman in his blood-red suit? If you knew enlightenment would render you incapable of living on this mortal earth without making daily references to a game of space mafia, would you accept it? With knowledge comes power, but also endless suffering. Choose wisely, and be wary when standing at the edge of that great abyss we call "the Truth," lest you fall too deep.

This is how dangerous parasocial relationships can form. Dream doesn't love you. He can't love you. Dream doesn't KNOW you. He can appreciate you but he can't fucking love you.