Barneyfag

>A tear streams down his cheek as he presses the Update button again. He was determined not to lose against the brony menace that had been plaguing him for five years. Wiping his nose against his dry, sticky forearm, he updates the thread again. A (You) catches his eye. Someone has posted a picture of those dreaded faggot ponies again. A sob catches in his throat, followed by a high-pitched whine. Visions of those abominations came back to him. Nights of insomnia, self-harm, flashbacks, it all hurt him. Even though he was on medication to minimize the damage his PTSD was doing, every pony picture he saw hurt him. He went against the advice of his own doctor: "Stop using the computer". He didn't understand the war he was in: The war against bronies, and he would sacrifice himself to end the war.
>He stops himself from punching his cheek and gets down to work. As he clicks on each individual post number, another tear drops from his chin and onto his desk. Shakily, he tik-taks on the keyboard the words "Bronies, everyone". He longed for the days of an original comeback that wasn't projection or generalization, but the five years at war had taken a toll on his mind. He could hardly think straight. All that was on his mind was the war. He slowly lost weight, his vision diminished, and he sat, confined to his chair, for at least 12 hours a day. After six tries with the dreaded Captcha, he finally submits his post. He turns his chair around and stares at the framed photograph on the wall. The gold plating below, titled "Bronies, this is your mindset", reminded him of his idol, a man who had not given up the war.
>"Someday, we'll win," he whispers, touching the plating.